The Darkest Hour
by JustSlightlyConfused
Summary: Chekov and Sulu are kidnapped from the ship for some unknown reason, leaving the crew scrambling to find answers and get them back. But things quickly take an unexpected turn for the worst. The Enterprise has dealt with many a harrowing enemy before, but how can its crew fight back when the enemy is two of their own?
1. Chapter 1

_"It is only in our darkest hours that we may discover the true strength of the brilliant light within ourselves that can never, ever, be dimmed."_

 _― Doe Zantamata_

"Come on, Pav, you can do it. Side-step, inward-kick, wrist bend. Keep your eyes forward. One more time".

Sulu watches his younger friend wipe away the sweat from his forehead with frustration before returning to a defensive stance.

They've been at this for a good two hours now; Sulu's just recently been teaching Chekov proper self-defense techniques. Now that he'd be attending more away missions, Chekov wanted to be properly trained to handle any kind of situation; especially any physical altercations.

Sulu focuses his attention back to the boy. Chekov nods once to signal he's ready.

Quick as lightning, Sulu punches forward and Chekov immediately slides to the right. The boy grabs onto Sulu's arm, forces a well-placed inward kick at his knee, and then turns to deliver the final blow. But as Chekov goes to bend the helmsman's wrist backward, there's a moment of hesitation, and Sulu immediately repositions himself around so that he now has Chekov's arm behind his back in a compromising position. Sulu takes his free leg and sweeps the boy's legs out from under him and Chekov falls face first toward the floor.

The younger man hits the training mat with a forceful thud.

"You almost had it that time," Sulu praises as he releases the boy's arm. He straightens up and brushes the hair from his eyes.

Chekov doesn't seem content with the compliment. He mumbles angrily as he pushes himself up to his feet and brushes his clothes off.

"No, I didn't," he mutters back, frustrated as he massages the muscles on his sore arm. "I vasn't even close."

Sulu gives the kid a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Sure you were. You did perfectly fine up until the end. We just have to work on your takedown is all".

Chekov isn't convinced, irritation still settled on his face.

"Give yourself some credit, Pav," Sulu offers. "You don't learn self-defense overnight. You've been making a lot of progress."

"I guess," Chekov shrugs, still a bit doubtful. He looks up. "Should we go again?"

Sulu shakes his head. "Nah. Let's call it a day. Besides I want to get to the dinning hall. I'm starving."

"You're alvays starving," Chekov comments sarcastically.

"Very true. But now especially so."

Chekov rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to his bag and begins packing his stuff into it.

Sulu does the same, tossing belongings haphazardly into his duffel.

It's about five seconds later that a sudden siren pierces through the peaceful silence.

Both men look up in confusion at the sound.

"The emergency alarm?" Chekov mutters, puzzled.

Sulu glances around the room, observing the distressing red lights flashing on and off.

"Well this can't be good," he comments as he takes a step toward the exit.

And as if on cue, the doors to the training room burst wide open; or rather explode open considering they're off their hinges and halfway across the room in a single second.

Sulu immediately pushes Chekov back a few steps; watching with tense breath as three figures step into the room: all masked and dressed completely in black.

The helmsman sizes the intruders up: all three have a good two inches on him, plus they're rather well-built and tall.

The one in front, the leader he'd assume, takes a step forward. The man gives a quick, even order over his shoulder that Sulu doesn't catch, and then points to both him and Chekov.

"Shit," Sulu mumbles. He takes a a few steps backward to match the ones the two other men take forward. He glances from side to side quickly and his eyes land on the fencing rack.

Side-eyeing the men quickly, he makes a quick grab for one of the foils.

Sulu steps back in front of Chekov and puts a protective arm out.

"Go out the back door," he mumbles lowly to the young boy. "Get to a comm and find help".

"What about you?" Chekov snaps, not intent on leaving his friend behind.

"I can hold my own," Sulu replies back, brandishing his sword as the two men quickly approach. "Get to Kirk. Go".

He can hear Chekov give a quick, frustrated sigh. "Okay," he promptly agrees.

The boy turns to head for the other exit. Sulu positions himself in his ready stance; eyeing up his opponents as they unsheathe knives from their belts.

"Awesome," Sulu grumbles sarcastically at the sight of the glinting weapons.

He's too busy formulating his plan of attack to hear the door behind him swish open.

"Sulu…" He hears Chekov call nervously.

The older man spares a cautionary glance over his shoulder and is met with the sight of two more masked men in black. They look just as strong and muscled as the other three.

Chekov slowly steps away until he's back to back with Sulu.

The older helmsman takes in the situation. The five strangers have stopped approaching for favor of just surrounding himself and Chekov. The odds are against them: two to five is way unbalanced, especially considering all they have for defense is some spare gym equipment.

All in all, things are not looking good.

"You have a plan?" Chekov whispers, eyeing the strangers warily.

"Not exactly," Sulu replies. He racks his brain; trying to come up with anything that has the possibility of saving them.

"You remember the dodge-and-hit technique I taught you a few week ago?" He asks.

"Side-step, duck, punch?" Chekov offers.

"That's the one," Sulu replies. "Just focus on that. And the second you get the chance, make a break for the exit. Understand?"

With his close proximity to the boy, he can nearly feel Chekov nod his head in confirmation.

"Got it," the boy says.

The two command officers stand there, back to back, waiting. No one moves. They barely breathe.

There's a beat.

And then all hell breaks loose.

The four men charge while the fifth one Sulu earlier identified as the leader stays behind; as if to observe, not participate.

Sulu crashes weapons with the biggest of the attackers first. The fencing foil isn't a strong as the man's knife, but it's longer, and gives him considerable distance when striking.

He clashes once, twice. He parries, ducks, and makes a sweep around the man. He takes a swipe and catches the man across the arm. It doesn't break skin, after all it's only a practice sword, but Sulu knows it will still burn furiously where the metal grazed skin.

What he wouldn't give to have his katana right now.

He delivers a roundhouse kick to the lower half of the man's left side and sends him sprawling. Sulu has minimal time to recover as the second attacker takes a swing at him. He blocks with his foil and forces the man's arm upward, but unfortunately his strength isn't enough to keep it there.

The attacker swipes the knife down across the foil and gets a slice in on Sulu's left shoulder. The helmsman hisses in pain as he feels the warm blood trickle down his arm. The momentary distraction puts him off guard and he's roughly knocked to the ground with a forceful punch to his chest.

He lands on his back and the wind is partly knocked out of him. He recovers and rolls quickly to the right; narrowly missing a kick to the face.

Sulu's back on his feet and so are both men. If he has one advantage, it's that one of them is now limping thanks to that kick he'd given earlier. They quickly begin approaching him on both sides, indicating a simultaneous attack.

Sulu glances to his right and sees Chekov duck quickly under a punch and then deliver a side kick to his attacker's stomach. The boy seems to be faring well. The two men nearly double his size are having an apparent hard time getting hold of the quick-footed ensign.

 _Give 'em hell_ , Sulu thinks as he turns back toward his own opponents.

The two men charge him from both sides and Sulu does a side-flip over the one to his left. He spins a leg and sweeps the one man off his feet, sending him straight into the solid floor. Acting quickly, he uses the downed attacker as a springboard and leaps off the man's back and into the air, bringing his foil down on the second attacker.

The man blocks the hit with his knife, but Sulu knows he has the upper hand. He forces the knife downward, creating an opening just big enough to land a punch on.

He's nearly done it when his opponent yells out ferociously and grabs his knife with both hands. Sulu watches the man thrust both arms upward and in a moment of surprise, Sulu's grip on his foil loosens. The thin sword is launched from his hands and into the air.

Immediately, the man throws a punch and Sulu isn't quick enough to duck it. The hit catches him straight on the right cheek and knocks him to the floor. The attacker quickly grabs his shoulders and knees him straight in the chest, this effectively causing him to lose every bit of air in his lungs as he's catapulted backward.

Sulu meets the ground with a painful thud; struggling to breathe inward as he gasps painfully for air.

The man who's beaten him his there in seconds, grabbing the front of his shirt on hoisting him roughly to his feet.

Sulu is unable to reciprocate as the stranger wraps a strong arm around his neck. All he can do is try in vain the pull at the solid grip. It's of no use.

The helmsman glances at Chekov and he can't help but let a small bit of pride well up at the sight of the boy fighting so hard. But the moment doesn't last. The man with his arm around Sulu's neck tightens his grip and suddenly calls out.

"Hey!" The voice bellows across the gym. Sulu can do nothing but watch as Chekov freezes and then turns toward the direction of the shout. He sees the ensign's eyes widen ever slightly in fear before the man he'd been holding off finally lands a punch to the side of the kid's face. Chekov plummets to the floor.

"No!" Sulu yells out. He struggles fervently against the grip around him, but he's already feeling slightly lightheaded from the lack of air he's getting.

The man who sent Chekov sprawling gives a forceful kick to the fallen ensign, most likely out of frustration. The resounding thud hits Sulu's hears like a train.

"Son of a bitch!" He screams out. "Leave him alone!"

The man seemingly ignores him, yet doesn't attack Chekov again; rather, he lifts him by the scruff of his shirt until he's standing, albeit somewhat shaky. The boy's nose is bleeding and he's got a small cut on his cheek.

Sulu kicks out, once again trying to undo the steel-like grip on him. When he fails to do so, he yells in frustration.

"What do you want _!_ " He shouts angrily.

The men do not reply. They simply stand there, waiting.

The leader, who Sulu had completely forgotten about until now, comes into the helmsman's view. He looks over the young man, top to bottom, not saying a single word.

Sulu continues to struggle.

The man turns and does the same to Chekov, looking the boy over with the utmost scrutiny.

A few moments of tense silence pass.

Finally, the leader turns back toward the man who has a grip on Sulu. He nods once before finally speaking.

"Let's go," he orders evenly.

It's the last thing that Sulu hears, bar Chekov's screaming his name, before something collides violently with the back of his head, and darkness overtakes him.

 **Happy early Christmas everyone! I know this probably seems like it came out of nowhere, but that's because it pretty much did. I was working on the latest update for _All the Little Things_ when I had an idea about a new story. It kind of snowballed from there and now we've ended up here. I'm excited for this new story. I'll try and get the next chapter out soon. So until then, let me know what you think with a review. I hope you guys all have a fantastic holiday!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Hope you all had a lovely Christmas. Just a quick heads-up concerning this chapter and what will most likely be the rest of the story. There will be quite a few flashbacks throughout various parts and to avoid confusion, I've separated them using line breaks as well as italics. Hope you enjoy the next chapter. Don't forget to review!**

* * *

 _Sulu walks through the door to his new room. It's rather spacious for a dorm, or at least larger than he would have imagined; not that's he's complaining._

 _He jumps in surprise when a small voice speaks up, and he quickly realizes he's not alone._

" _Hello," the voice says timidly._

 _Sitting at the desk to his right is a young boy; looking to be no older than fourteen._

" _Hi," Sulu returns and gives a small, awkward wave. Surely this kid isn't a student here, he thinks. Maybe he is someone's younger brother._

 _The boy stands, reaching out a hand for Sulu to shake._

" _I'm Pavel Chekov"._

 _There's a heavy accent clinging to the words the boy speaks. Slavic, definitely._

" _Hikaru," Sulu replies, taking the boy's small hand, "Hikaru Sulu"._

 _Chekov waits a few moments before retracting his hand to let it fall nervously at his side._

" _I suppose ve vill be roommates then," the boy offers; a thin attempt at small talk._

 _Sulu nods his head in agreement. "Yeah," he replies, "I guess we will be"._

* * *

Sulu's eyes sluggishly blink open as he slowly comes around; waking painfully with an intense pounding in the back of his head. He's lying down, his eyes pointed to the ceiling.

He lifts his head and gently feels for the source of pain; his hand meeting with dried blood and what must be a rather nasty bruise.

He gently rubs the bridge of his nose to alleviate a headache that feels like it's blinding him. Looking around, he analyzes the room around him. Nothing of what he sees is familiar: three smooth, gray walls with a floor and ceiling to match. The fourth wall is a clear sheet of what appears to be glass.

It's painful to move at first, so he gingerly sits up and pushes himself to his knees. Instantly, his head feels like it's floating and the floor spins wildly beneath him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rides out the nausea that momentarily overtakes him. He breathes through his teeth, trying to keep a grip on his senses.

It takes a minute or so, but the wave of dizziness finally passes and he's able to stand; warily at first, but then just fine; albeit still with that pounding headache jackhammering his forehead.

As he observes the room closely, he clumsily fumbles through his foggy memory, trying to remember how he'd gotten here.

He recalls the emergency alarm sounding and being ambushed by several masked intruders. There was a fight he doesn't recall much of, but he's pretty sure he remembers losing it; badly. His fingers gingerly brush the bruise on his head again.

He was knocked out; and that's pretty much where his recollection ends. He feels there's something missing, though. Sulu racks his brain. There's something he's forgetting.

What had he been doing?

The attempt at trying to remember causes his headache to flare up again; but he does his best to suppress the pain in order to focus. He'd been in the ship's training center: he remembers that now. He notices he's still wearing his workout clothes. He'd been sparring; doing some self-defense practice before dinner.

It's that memory that hits him like a tidal wave: he hadn't been alone.

 _Chekov._

A chill of panic races through his chest. He spins, an action not helpful to his attempts at quelling his nausea, and searches for any sign of another person.

There's none. He's completely alone in this empty cell of a room.

Fear sets in now, not only at the notion of being completely trapped, but also for the worry of his friend; wherever he may be.

Sulu takes a few cautious steps toward the glass wall. Once he's close enough, he presses a single hand against it: solid. Not very thick, but enough to hold someone back.

He tries his best to see outside the cell, looking as far as he can down to the right and to the left. More rooms with glass walls like his own line a single pathway on both sides.

Across from him is one as well, and at first glance, he assumes that it's empty. But upon further inspection, he realizes he's wrong: there's a small figure towards the far right corner of the cell wearing gym clothes looking identical to the ones he's seen someone just recently wearing.

A wave of relief washes over Sulu. He looks from left to right again to see if anyone's there, and, when he concludes no one is, he begins lightly banging on the glass wall.

"Chekov!" He calls.

The boy in the other cell does not stir.

Again, Sulu pounds on the glass with a curled fist; harder this time. He yells louder.

"Chekov!"

When he, again, receives no response, he lets his arm fall dejectedly to his side. He allows a frustrated sigh to escape him.

He turns, intent on analyzing the room again to find a possible escape, when a small sliver of movement catches his eye.

Sulu sees Chekov stir slightly, like he's waking from a long night of sleep. Anxiously, the helmsman moves toward the glass once more and pounds on it, calling his friend's name.

This time, the boy looks up, eyes blinking blearily and a hand scrubbing tiredly across his face. It takes a few seconds, but Chekov finally wakes fully; and when he does, a look of confusion immediately dawns him.

He stands, slowly makes his way to the front of his cell, and puts a cautious hand on the glass wall that seals him in.

"Are you okay?" Sulu asks, not even knowing if the boy can hear him properly through two walls of glass.

Chekov nods his head in response. Sulu concludes the walls must not be soundproof.

"Vhat happened?" The younger man inquires, voice slightly muffled.

"We got ambushed," Sulu answers him, not quite sure what else to say. "I don't know why".

"Do you know vhere ve are?"

Sulu shakes his head. "No idea".

Chekov purses his lips tightly at the older man's response.

"Is your head okay?" He then asks, turning his attention to the injured helmsman.

Sulu unconsciously reaches for the bruise on the back of his head, fingers tracing over a small cut he hadn't noticed before.

"Pretty bad headache," he says. "Other than that I'm fine."

Chekov gives Sulu a knowing look, very obviously indicating he doesn't believe the older man.

Sulu fights the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm fine, Pav," he reiterates again, annoyance playing on the edge of his tone. Chekov's keen perception is great and all, but not when it comes to Sulu trying to lie. Seemingly nothing gets passed the young navigator, no matter how hard the older man tries.

In any other case, Sulu likely wouldn't have belittled how shitty he really felt. But he figured their current predicament didn't exactly have spare time for any complaining about a small head injury.

"Look it's really not that bad," Sulu reassures the boy. "It's not even bleeding anymore".

" _Bleeding!_ " Chekov states incredulously.

Sulu sighs. They are getting nowhere with this.

The sudden sound of an opening door draws Sulu's attention to his left. He can hear footsteps echoing as they move closer and closer to him. Fear creeps up again, and he can feel his heart begin to pound fervently in his chest.

More footsteps now; at least three sets. They are drawing near. Chekov has fallen silent as well, hesitantly waiting to see what approaches.

A few seconds later, three figures come into view: two men wearing the same black outfits the intruders wore, sans the the unrevealing masks, and a tall, thin man looking to be quite older; perhaps 40s or even 50s. Judging by the long white coat the man wears, Sulu can guess he's probably a doctor or maybe a scientist. The man wears thin glasses that sit carefully on the edge of his nose.

The three of them approach Sulu's cell. The older man reaches out and places his palm on the glass wall. Sulu can see a small light scan his hand. The man then taps the glass twice and it instantly dissolves; no longer anything but thin air.

The old man and the two others enter the cell and Sulu takes a hesitant step back. He glances over at Chekov, who is watching every movement closely.

A few moments pass where no one says anything; the room wrapped in a blanket of tense silence.

It's the older man who finally speaks first.

"Hello, Hikaru" he says evenly; this causing Sulu to inwardly jump in surprise at the notion that this stranger knows him by name. "I'm Doctor Everit. It's good to see you up and about. I'd instructed my team to handle you carefully during your extraction, but well," he waves a flippant hand towards the other two men, "they do tend to get a bit carried away sometimes. I was worried they'd injured you too extensively; but it seems you've recovered quite well".

The man smiles, and not in a friendly way. It's in a way that seems to portray faux stability; an effort to cover a madness that lies beneath.

The smile sends a chill down Sulu's spine.

"I suppose I'll address the obvious question that must be encircling your mind at the moment," Everit says. "You'd like to know why you are here?"

Sulu stares him down, not showing even an inch of fear.

"You seem like a man of very few words," Everit laughs, and it unnerves Sulu just how casual the man's demeanor seems. "So I will get straight to the point then: I have a proposition for you, Hikaru. One I very much hope you will accept".

 _A proposition?_

Was this guy insane?

"I'm not interested," Sulu answers simply. And Everit looks genuinely hurt at the younger man's response.

"Oh, but come now: you haven't even heard what I have to say".

"I don't care," Sulu says. "I'm _not_. Interested".

And Everit sighs; apparently disappointed in the response he's received.

"I was afraid you would refuse to listen," he says honestly, pushing his glasses back towards the top of his nose. "Perhaps you need some time to think about it, yes? I didn't give you much to adjust after waking up and all. Not to mention you haven't been seen to about that head injury yet. We'll talk later," Everit says.

And then he turns on a heel to go; to simply leave without so much as another word.

Something about that infuriates Sulu. He traps him here with no explanation, none at all, and then decides to just leave?

Sulu charges the older man, fist raised to strike, but he's stopped before he can even make it two steps forward. Immediately, he's slammed into the adjacent wall, arm bent painfully behind his back. One of the two men has him pinned.

Ah, Sulu thinks, should have remembered them. Too little too late, he supposes.

He lets out a small gasp of pain as the man holding his arm gives it a painful twist. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Everit stopped and turned slightly towards him.

"I do hope you'll reconsider listening next time, Hikaru," the doctor informs him. "I will be back."

And with that, he takes his leave out of the cell and back down the hall.

The man holding Sulu to the wall releases his arm and then shoves him roughly to the ground. The sudden movement causes a bout of dizziness to wash over the helmsman and he does is best to overcome it.

The two men have left the cell by the time Sulu can finally find the capacity to stand. He finds only himself in the vacant room once more; a sheet of glass again separating him from the outside.

He hears a muffled knocking and looks up to see Chekov frantically trying to get his attention.

"Are you alright?" He asks, quick and panicked. Sulu walks to the wall of glass and places a firm hand against it to verify it's still there. It is; solid and thick as it was the first time he felt it.

"I'm okay," Sulu replies, eyes leaving his hand and landing back at Chekov.

"What vas he talking about?" The boy asks. "What kind of proposition?"

The question leaves Sulu at a loss for words.

"I don't know," the older helmsman replies honestly.

He pauses a moment.

"But whatever it is, it doesn't sound good".

And by the look on Chekov's face, Sulu can tell the younger boy agrees.

Sulu takes a step back and surveys the cell once more; it seems the only way out is through the glass wall. And he's not exactly sure he has the faith in himself to ram a solid sheet of glass hard enough to break it.

They're going to need help getting out of this one, that's for damn sure. And by the sound of whatever these people are planning, that help better come quick.

Sulu's not sure what he can do if it doesn't.


	3. Chapter 3

Chekov isn't sure how long it's been by the time the doctor returns; though he knows it's long enough for both himself and Sulu to have become tired enough to fall asleep.

When he finally does wake, he sees that Sulu is missing: and it immediately sends him into a wild panic. There's not much he can do in way of searching; he's trapped with way to look for his missing friend.

He struggles to see down the hall of cells; trying desperately to find any sign of Sulu. The entire place is vacant and he quickly realizes is he so very alone here. The thought of where Sulu could be, or what these people could be doing to him, scares Chekov; scares him more than he can even process at the moment: he's in too much of a panic to think straight. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness infuriates him.

Angrily, he storms to the wall of glass and begins loudly banging on it.

"Hey!" He screams. "Hey!"

Chekov pounds violently with both fists and he can feel the thin surface vibrate beneath them.

"Vhere did you take him!" Chekov demands, livid. He's not sure if anyone can even hear him. But he doesn't care.

"Vhere is he!?"

He receives no reply at first, and it takes a few minutes of incessant yelling and shouting for him to finally garner someone's attention.

It's the doctor who finally arrives: this time accompanied by only a single bodyguard instead of two. The men enter the cell the same way they did Sulu's earlier. Chekov still isn't sure what kind of technology allows that; definitely biometrics. Perhaps a matter converter, too.

The man dressed in black stands in the corner, arms crossed, observing. It unnerves Chekov to say the least.

The doctor must notice the ensign's wariness because he speaks up right away.

"Think nothing of him, my boy," he tells Chekov, "he's simply here out of precaution. Better to act as if he's not even there".

Chekov eyes the doctor carefully, taking note of the all too considerate attitude he displays. He knows not to be fooled considering the last time he saw the man; threatening Sulu and nearly injuring him more.

At the thought of his friend, Chekov focuses on nothing but figuring out where the missing helmsman is.

"What did you do vith Sulu," the boy asks, tone serious and unyielding.

The doctor waves him off. "No need to worry," he assures Chekov, "no need at all. He's perfectly fine. Most likely being checked over by our medical staff as we speak".

He moves a step forward and it takes all of Chekov's reserve not to match it by taking one back.

"As for you however, I'd like to have a talk. Get to know you more, perhaps. I'm Dr. Everit," he introduces himself, "though you probably caught my name the last time I was here."

How could Chekov forget? Seeing as Sulu was nearly thrown through a wall the last time the doctor "visited".

"And I suppose there really is no need for introduction on your part, Pavel Andreiveich Chekov," Everit continues. The mention of his full name by some stranger he's never so much as even seen before immediately puts Chekov on guard.

"How do you who I am?" He inquires cautiously.

Everit looks taken back by the question; almost offended by the very notion of _not_ knowing the boy's name.

"I know so very much about you, Pavel; so very much. Like, for example, that you spend your Tuesday evenings after shift practicing in the training center," the doctor says. "With all that, I would so hope I could at least remember your name."

And unsurprisingly, that answer only raises more questions in Chekov's mind; like how in the _hell_ this man could possibly know that. Putting aside the fear that grips at his chest, he presses on, determined to learn more about what's going on.

"I want to know vhy I am here. Vhy you brought Sulu here," Chekov demands, mustering a bravery that even he himself is a bit surprised at.

Everit nods his head as if expecting this. "A very good question, my boy. A very good question indeed. Where to start then…"

The doctor slowly begins pacing; thinking. Chekov's eyes follow the man's every move as he circles back around. He pushes his glasses back and then looks up to Chekov.

"I suppose there's no better start than the beginning then, hm?" Everit asks.

Chekov gives no response. Seeing this, the doctor continues.

"Right, well then. For one, I do truly know very much about you, Pavel. That little bit about your training in the evenings is just the tip of the iceberg. We've been watching you and your friend Hikaru for quite some time now; observing. You see we have intel: 'people on the inside' if you will. And they were assigned to watch over both you and Hikaru. It's how we learned of your abilities".

"Abilities?" Chekov asks. There's a cold feeling that's settled on his chest at the thought of someone watching him; studying him like some kind of experiment.

"Abilities like your intellect, Pavel," Everit explains respectfully, "such youth and yet such an extraordinary mind. It's quite unlike anything I've ever seen".

Chekov knows the doctor's statement is meant as a compliment, but it in no way feels like one.

"Not to mention your accomplishments in such a short span of time," Everit continues. "Only 19 and already having been the chief navigator of a ship for nearly two years is more than impressive. By some standards, it's almost unthinkable. And yet, you've managed to accomplish it all with such ease."

Clearly the doctor doesn't know _everything_ about him, then. Chekov knows that next to nothing about getting to where he is today has been "with ease". He's had enough hardships to last a lifetime before he's even turned 20.

Everit begins pacing slowly again and it's hard for Chekov not to feel like he's on display to be analyzed.

"Vhat does any of that have to do vith why I'm here?" The boy asks, eyes meeting the doctor's almost predatory gaze.

"My boy, it has everything to with why you're here," Everit answers, "Hikaru, too. You see, we _chose_ you, Pavel. Both of you. Out of everyone on your ship, out of every possible candidate, we chose _you_. That's why we had our men observe you from then on. We wanted to know as much about you as we possibly could".

"Chose us?" Chekov asks, both confused and frustrated at the doctor's vague explanations. The term candidate doesn't bode well at all. "Chose us for vhat?"

"To change the universe," Everit answers, wonder filling his voice. "To create a new way of life for every creature throughout all of space".

This most certainly isn't an answer Chekov was expecting. He waits cautiously for the doctor to continue.

"I'm part of a special organization, Pavel. One whose ultimate goal is to achieve civil order throughout the universe in our lifetime. Is it a daunting task? Maybe. But through our work, through our _perseverance_ , we can make the impossible, possible".

Chekov has a daunting feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Now how to go about that you might ask? Well, at first thought it may seem convoluted: how to create peace, to end the suffering so many feel." Everit is impassioned as he continues; animated as he now and again gestures with his arm to emphasize his words. "But when one traces back through time, when one follows the lines of effect back to the source of cause, there is but one overpowering force that's been harboring the unease in this universe for so very long. And that force is the Federation".

The words wash over Chekov like freezing ice water and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. He stares at the doctor a moment, trying to make sure what he's heard is serious. It is: there's not a single bit of doubt on Everit's face.

"The Federation _makes_ peace vith others in the Universe," Chekov argues. "It alvays has".

Everit shakes his head, chiding the younger man. "So brilliant and yet, so misunderstood. Don't you see, Pavel? You work for an imperialistic, driving power that will not settle for anything less than another species' surrender. The Federation gives rise to unrest. It places itself directly in matters that would do best without its intervention. Not to mention its weakness: standing on a pillar of proclaimed peace; presenting itself as a humanitarian armada. Such a thing does not exist. No, the only way to create order, to allow true freedom in this universe, is to _destroy_ the Federation, and everyone who stands by it".

Chekov inhales sharply, the doctor's words resounding as faded echoes in his ears.

 _Destroy the Federation_.

It seems so inane; an idea only contrived by the most ludicrous mind to exist. And yet, Everit is all too serious in his deliverance. He, and whoever he works for, truly believe that putting and end to the Federation, that _erasing the very existence_ of it, is the only viable solution. Chekov can't quite wrap his head around that.

"I stand by the Federation," Chekov says boldly, trying his best to stand tall. "Vhy not kill me, like you plan on doing to the others?"

Everit laughs almost genuinely; almost.

"A logical conclusion it would seem," he says, pacing with his hands clasped formally behind his back. "But in light of circumstances, not so. You see, when I said we _chose_ you, Pavel, it wasn't just mincing words for form of flattery. You have skills, intelligence. _Abilities_ that can help us further our cause; help us achieve our goals. _You_ are a piece of a much larger mechanism, my boy, one which will see to the end of the Federation; no matter the cost nor the bloodshed".

And suddenly, Chekov finds it hard to breathe.

"You vant _me_ to help youto bring down the Federation? To kill innocent people?"

He shakes his head in disbelief. These people can't seriously think he'd willingly do something like this.

Everit is unyielding. "Innocence is a powerful term, Pavel. No one who supports the Federation is innocent. They bear the blood of those who have fought against the assimilation their "humanitarian" organization demands".

"And yet you vould justify killing those people? To bring about more bloodshed?" Chekov asks.

Everit sighs. "A means to an end, if you will. There's no telling the number of lives we would be saving should we succeed in bringing about the end of the Federation."

Chekov shakes his head again. Everything, all of what the doctor speaks, is insane. And to think that these people believed he would _help_ them. It's almost beyond comprehension.

"I von't do it," Chekov answers boldly. "I von't endanger the lives of innocent people so you can settle vhatever revenge you seek against the Federation".

Everit looks earnestly at the boy. "Think, Pavel. That's what you're so accustomed to, isn't it? Thinking? Without the Federation, the universe will be free. It won't have to live in fear any longer!"

Chekov lowers his tone gravely, making so very sure this man knows where he stands.

"No," he simply mutters.

And hearing this, with a large exhale, the doctor sighs; shaking his head as he does so.

"I truly hoped it wouldn't have come to this, Pavel," he utters, disappointment evident, "but you have given me no other option. I would have rather you'd join willingly, but seeing as that is a grave impossibility, we will have to opt for another route then, shall we?"

Chekov eyes the doctor cautiously, unsure of what he means.

"Hikaru," Everit calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Chekov, "would you come here please?"

Chekov watches in disbelief as Sulu, looking unharmed, enters the cell swiftly. He's dressed all in black: an exact replica of the suits the men who brought them here wore. The older man approaches Everit quickly and then comes to an abrupt halt next to him, arms orderly placed at his sides.

"You see, Pavel," the doctor begins, and a chill runs down Chekov's spine at the new, grave and threatening tone the man's voice has taken on, "Hikaru didn't see our reasoning either; he argued much like you did, going on about peace and humanity. He refused. A shame really, I was so hoping to have you both willing accept our proposal. Alas, these things do happen. But I pride my organization on adjusting to circumstances; especially any concerning disagreement. And luckily for us, they've found a way to do just that".

Everit turns to Sulu.

"Hikaru, take out your gun," the doctor instructs.

And in utter disbelief, Chekov watches as Sulu reaches to the holster of his belt and retrieves a phaser. He holds it firmly in his hand, waiting.

"Good," Everit praises. "Now Hikaru, point the gun at me".

Sulu does so immediately, taking a step back and aiming the phaser right at the doctor's head.

Chekov feels his heart race.

"Hikaru, vhat are you doing?" He asks fervently, not understanding why his friend is obeying every command like some kind of machine.

"He's doing as he's told," Everit answers the younger boy simply, taking a step forward. Chekov notices that Sulu follows the doctor's path with his gun, still obeying the order he was given.

"It's quite fascinating, yes? Quite a unique solution our scientists have come up with. A serum injected into the bloodstream that, when having reached the brain, will allow any administrator of the serum to command the subject by his will".

Everit gives a simple, calculated smile.

"Hikaru," he calls once more, eyes never leaving Chekov's, "I want you to point that gun at Pavel now".

And without missing a beat, Sulu brings down his phaser, steps forward, turns his attention to Chekov, and raises the gun firmly.

Chekov feels as though time itself has stopped around him as he stares down the aim of a gun pointed at him by one of the only people in this world he could trust his life with. He freezes; afraid he could trigger a reaction simply by breathing.

He sees Doctor Everit smile as he glances back and forth between the two helmsmen.

"Riveting isn't it?" He directs his question to Chekov, who is still panicked as his eyes never leave his friend. "To have the unyielding power over another person's every decision. Every move they make is determined by you. Every step they take: it's not done without command. Such power this ability holds."

Chekov is unnerved by the very delight the doctor takes in those words; though not quite as unnerved as he is with Sulu pointing a gun directly at him. He breathes slowly and evenly, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Hikaru," Chekov speaks, voice timid and shaking, "please, don't listen to him".

Sulu doesn't even blink in response.

Meanwhile, Everit laughs. "I'm afraid that's not going to work, my boy," he says. "He'll only listen to what I have to say now. Like for example: Hikaru, your weapon seems to be on stun. Would you please switch it to its alternate setting?"

Chekov watches as the gun quickly flips from blue to red, indicating it's set for one thing, and one thing only: to kill.

"You finger doesn't seem to be on the trigger," Everit chides. "Fix that please".

Obediently, Sulu moves his finger so that it's just barely hovering over the trigger of the gun.

Chekov can't move; he can't breathe.

A tense moment passes. Then two. Then three. It seems an eternity as they all stand there, unmoving, unyielding. One could hear a pin drop at the end of the hall.

Chekov sees Everit glance between the two officers again before nodding once.

"Good," he quips, moving forward toward Sulu, "I think we've put on quite a show for young Pavel here. Put the gun away, Hikaru".

And Sulu does so; swiftly and silently re-holstering the weapon at his side before standing at attention once more.

Chekov releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in an exhale of relief. His knees feel like they'll buckle beneath him in an instant and he struggles to remain upright. He unconsciously puts a hand to his racing heart; he can feel it pound fervently beneath his chest.

"Now then," Everit chimes, causing Chekov to glance up immediately, "Sigmen here will escort you to the lab, where you'll undergo some preparations before the procedure".

The doctor motions towards the guard in the corner, who Chekov had honestly disregarded until just now. The hulking man takes a step forward and the young ensign's eyes widen in fear.

"Not to worry," Everit says calmly, "everything will be just fine. You won't even feel a thing. I promise."

And somehow, that doesn't make Chekov feel any better.

Sigmen approaches him, reaching out a hand to grab him by the arm. In a last ditch effort, Chekov ducks the man's reach and races forward to get away.

He feels a strong grip latch on to the back of his shirt and he's very suddenly pulled away and thrown violently back. Chekov's head connects painfully with the wall behind him and he's disoriented as he slides to the floor, unable to move.

His vision is swimming and he can vaguely hear Doctor Everit berating the body guard for injuring him further. Nonetheless, when Chekov looks up, he's able to make out Sigmen coming towards him again, this time with a needled-tipped cylinder gripped firmly in his hand.

Head still swimming from being thrown, Chekov tries his very best to fight his way out of the stronger man's grip. But it's of no use. He senses the sharp prick of a needle on his arm and instantly feels the affects.

He drops to the ground, unable to move and vision dimming.

The last thing he sees is Sulu looking down at him, face emotionless, and uncaring.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is going to be an obnoxiously long author's note so just skip to the line break if you'd just like to read the chapter.**

 **Now, for all of you guys still with me. Hello! So, yes, this story hasn't been updated in seven months but I have a good excuse! Alright, that's a lie. I don't. I've hated that I haven't had time to update this story or write for it. The second semester got so busy and my writing took a bit of a back seat to studying. I honestly planned to really start on this story again in the Summer.**

 **So Summer break came and I started working on it again. On June 14th, I finished** ** _All the Little Things in Between,_** **a collection of short stories I had been writing since February of 2014. As bittersweet as ending it was, I was optimistic for the future. I had many writing projects planned out that I was very excited to share with you guys, including** ** _The Darkest Hour._** **But then five days later on June 19, I received some unexpected news that affected me very personally. That afternoon, I found out that Anton Yelchin had died and it honestly felt like everything came crashing down. I still cannot find the right words to describe that level of grief and sadness I felt in those days following his death. Literally everything came to a halt, especially my writing. I just couldn't bare to see anything associated with him or his characters. My stories were only unavoidable reminders of what had happened.**

 **So I stopped writing all together. I posted a single tribute to Anton on June 20th and that was that. For weeks, I refused to even log onto my account here. I felt so lost and hurt and couldn't find a reason to make myself revisit my writing. It didn't seem worth it anymore. All I could think about was how I would never be able to write again without feeling heartbroken. The projects I was in the process of writing all seemed pointless, so they remained half-composed and archived on my computer.**

 **Then, just a little over a month after everything happened, I found myself in a movie theater, anxiously awaiting the movie I had been waiting for what felt like a lifetime to see. I was so afraid that I wasn't going to be able to watch Star Trek Beyond and enjoy it as I once hoped I would. I thought that every time I would see Anton as Chekov, the only thing I would feel was grief. I was wrong.**

 **I laughed and applauded my way through that entire movie and enjoyed the hell out of every single second Anton was on screen. I couldn't have asked for more. I left that theater feeling lighter; like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For the first time since Anton died, everything felt normal again. I felt better. I felt happy.**

 **I know nothing is every going to bring Anton back. There's nothing I, nor anyone else, can do to change the past. But what I know I** ** _can_** **do is help carry on the hope he gave to so many people while he was with us. I can keep writing, keep going. I can continue on. Live life with an unbated passion that he seemed to so effortlessly have. I'll never be able to thank Anton Yelchin for all the hope and happiness he gave me, so instead I'll honor him by doing the only thing I can: live my life in the happiest way I can imagine and keep my head held up high. That's what I choose to do, and it's what I hope all of you choose as well.**

 **As far as future projects go, I fully intend on finishing this story and have a few other things in mind that I plan to post as well. Thank you, everyone, for all your love and support. It really means the world to me.**

 **So, as always, if you like the chapter, let me know what you think and I hope you all have a very wonderful, very fantastic day.**

* * *

"What do you mean _they're gone_?!" Kirk yells incredulously into the comm at the navigation console.

"There's no sign of them, Jim," McCoy replies, "not even on the locator. They're just…gone".

Captain Kirk furrows his brow, contemplating what that means. There had been intruders that somehow boarded the _Enterprise_ ; thus causing a ship-wide panic. Security placed their positions right outside the training center: the place Kirk knew Sulu and Chekov would be at that time. He ordered the men to get there as soon as they could, but when they arrived there was nothing; not a single trace.

And now there's no sign of Chekov or Sulu. Kirk's quickly connecting the dots as to why that might be, and he doesn't like the answer he comes up with.

"Have you tried either of their comms?" Kirk asks McCoy, desperate. "Maybe if we can get a hold of-"

"Captain!" A new voice shouts as the doors to the bridge quickly slide open.

Kirk turns to see Scotty frantically sprint to him, gasping and out of breath.

"Mr. Scott," Kirk says bluntly at first sight of the disheveled engineer. "What's going on?"

Scotty gasps every few words as he tries to catch his breath. "The-the video…pull up…the video feed…from the gym," he manages.

Kirk gives a curt nod to one of the crewmen at his right, who quickly begins typing away. In a few seconds, the video feed from the training center is up on the viewing screen.

"Go back…ten minutes," Scotty instructs, still struggling to take in air after sprinting all the way from engineering. The crewmen controlling the feed does so and at sight of both Chekov and Sulu on the screen Kirk yells out for the video to be stopped and then played.

Everyone aboard the bridge watches silently as both the pilot and navigator look up in surprise at the sound of the emergency alarm. The two men exchange glances before the door on the far right of the screen suddenly explodes. Kirk can't see what both his friends cautiously back away from at first, but as the video feed continues, he sees three figures step into view: all masked and barely visible in their dark clothing.

Kirk watches as Chekov makes his way to the back exit of the gym, only to be stopped by two other men entering in through those doors. The captain holds his breath; both his friends are back to back, waiting in anticipation for the impending attack.

The fight is short: Kirk winces as Sulu's nailed with a knee to the chest and sent straight to the floor. Kirk finds himself gripping the helm fiercely as one of the masked men, arm wrapped around Sulu's neck, calls out to Chekov. In a flash, the boy is on the floor after taking a hit to the face.

The fifth intruder, who did not participate in the fight, approaches the man incapacitating Sulu from behind, and strikes the younger helmsman in the head with a phaser. Chekov screams out to the unconscious man as golden light begins swirling around every occupant in the room. In a single second, they all vanish; beamed away to who knows where. The training center is vacant. It's only a few seconds later that security bursts into the room and finds it completely empty; not even a remaining trace of evidence that anyone was there, save the few chilling drops of blood leftover from the fight.

Kirk lifts one hand to signal the playback be stopped. The crewman controlling it does so and a hushed silence remains stagnant across the bridge. They all wait; too unsure of what to say. Kirk doesn't really blame them: he's positive he doesn't know what to say right now either. His mind is too busy creating nightmare scenario after nightmare scenario of what could be happening to his two helmsmen right now. He shakes his head free of the torturous visions; he's captain of this ship, this crew, and damn it, they need him.

Kirk lifts his head, turning to Scotty beside him.

"I want security scouring every inch of that training center," he instructs evenly. "Tell them to look everywhere. To find anything that could help us figure out who invaded my god damn ship and took my crew".

The head engineer replies with a firm nod before turning on a heel to follow the captain's instruction. Kirk turns to address the rest of the bridge formally.

"Go over all the data we've collected in the past twenty-four hours. Sensor readings, energy levels, proximity scans. There _has_ to be something we missed. Don't let anything go unanalyzed, understood?"

He receives a full chorus of "yes captain" before everyone on the bridge promptly gets to work. Kirk nods, satisfied. As he steps forward, his hand brushes across the helm for a moment, the smooth feel of warped glass gliding under his fingers. He turns and observes the pilot and navigator seats; each currently filled by their respective secondary officers. Both crewmen are working diligently to fulfill their captain's orders.

Usually Kirk wouldn't think twice about the presence of these two officers seeing as their attendance is required when the senior officers are off-duty. But in light of recent events, Kirk can't help but feel a knot form in his stomach for glancing at the helm and not seeing Sulu and Chekov there like normal.

Dread, guilt, and anger all pull at him fervently, but he decides that the best thing he can do now is work; lead. Be the captain his crew needs. As his fingers leave the helm, he utters a silent vow to both himself and his missing friends.

 _I'm coming to get you,_ he promises.

It's a promise he doesn't plan on breaking.

* * *

 _Chekov is running, heart beating out of his chest and lungs working furiously to let him breathe. He throws a glance back at his pursuers; they are drawing dangerously close. His gaze snaps forward as he runs along, trying hurriedly to evade the cadets chasing after him. He doesn't understand why they hate him so; he only knows they despise him for his age. That's been more than enough for them to torment him endlessly, it seems._

 _He makes a sharp turn down one hallway and rips open the nearest door. It leads into the Academy gym. Desperate, he latches the door shut behind him and makes a fervent sprint across the room. He can hear the door swing open; can hear them shout to each other. Chekov doesn't look back for favor of continuing forward._

 _He realizes far too late that he should have been looking down to observe his route and, quite suddenly, he's falling forward, having tripped on a pile of badly placed routing cables. Immediately, he feels a throbbing pain in the shoulder he lands on. He grabs at it instinctively and rolls over onto his good side._

 _There's no use in trying to stand. His pursuers are already upon him. One hauls him to his feet and, without a single word, they proceed to pummel him mercilessly; delivering blow after forceful blow. At some point, he's shoved roughly to the ground and there's only a moment between then and the sudden_ _ **crack**_ _that emanates from his left leg._

 _There's so much pain all at once that it's all he can think about in that moment. It's piercing, throbbing, and horrible. He screams. To move even a centimeter is more of an agonizing pain than he's ever felt in his whole life. He can't even reach forward to cradle the injured limb; every movement makes his head spin._

 _Vaguely, he hears a familiar voice yell out._

 _"_ _Hey!" It screams ferociously. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

 _His attackers make a break for the exit and Chekov is left there, seething in pain as his attempts not to move go unrewarded, and each second that passes is more terrible than the last._

 _He hears footsteps draw rapidly closer as the last of the attackers leaves the gymnasium._

 _"_ _Yeah that's right! Run you asssholes!"_

 _Chekov turns, the very movement sending a stabbing sensation all the way up his lower back, and is all too relieved to see Sulu upon him, face plastered with concern._

 _The older man takes a knee next to the injured fifteen-year-old._

 _"_ _Shit," he mumbles angrily as he takes in the sight of Chekov's leg. Sulu looks around for any kind of help and is frustrated to find none. He resigns to turning back to his injured friend and instructing his plan evenly._

 _"_ _We've gotta get you to medical," he tells Chekov._

 _The boy nods, pain overtaking his ability to respond._

 _Sulu nods back. "I'm going to have to carry you, okay?"_

 _Again, Chekov only signals he's in agreement with a quick nod before squeezing his eyes shut at the pain coursing through him._

 _Sulu slips an arm under the boy's shoulders and another under his knees, just a few inches above the break on the left leg. Chekov winces and Sulu gives him fair warning before he finally lifts the injured cadet into the air._

 _Chekov does his best not to scream out as a fiery pain lights up his leg once more, and he bites his lip so hard he draws a bit of blood._

 _"_ _You good?" Sulu asks._

 _"_ _Da," Chekov replies, wincing._

 _Quickly but steadily, they begin their trek towards the medical wing. Chekov could almost hide his face at the looks he receives as others watch him being bridal carried across campus. He elects to try and ignore it. He's lucky his friend is here for him. He makes a point to let Sulu know that._

 _"_ _Thank you for helping me, Hikaru," Chekov says._

 _"_ _Ah, don't worry about it," Sulu replies with a smile, easily noting the boy's embarrassment. "I'll be your knight in shining armor, Pav"._

 _Chekov would have hit the older man had he the capacity to. Instead, he settles for a humiliated groan._

 _Sulu just laughs._

* * *

Chekov wakes slowly; blearily, as a bright light shines down over him. He squeezes his eyes shut against the harshness of it and attempts to shield his face using his hand. Only he quickly comes to realize that he can't: his arm is held fast at his side, as is his other one on the opposite side.

Once his vision adjusts, he surveys his predicament. He's strapped down to a medical bed, a thin tube protruding from his left arm. He cranes his head to look around and finds he's in a very simple, small room. The only things occupying it are the bed he's currently on and a small, liquid-filled bag that the tube running from his arm connects to. The bag hangs loosely on a metal rod attached to the bedside.

The door to the room opens, and in strides Doctor Everit. Chekov immediately fights against the restraints that hold him down.

"Now, there's no need for that," Everit chides as he rounds the bed, "you're only going to hurt yourself more, my boy."

The older man begins fiddling with the bag hanging from the side of the bed.

"This will only take a moment," he says; pulling a syringe from his pocket. Everit then sticks the needle into a small valve connected to the bag and pushes the plunger of the syringe down slowly; releasing the contents into the suspended liquid.

Seeing this, Chekov makes a frantic attempt to remove the tube protruding from his arm, but to no avail. With his hands useless at his sides, there's nothing he can do in way of moving. The liquid in the bag turns a sickly red, and Chekov watches as it slowly begins to inch its way out and into the tube that leads directly to him.

The serum flows quickly, and it's reached him in a matter of seconds. He can feel it the instant it hits his bloodstream. It's such a sudden rush of adrenaline that he loses his breath for a moment. By the time he's regained it, he can feel the icy cold rush of the serum pumping through his veins. It's painful; almost unbearably so, but he doesn't want to give Everit the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He clenches his fists, determined to fight the urge to yell out in pain.

Another wave of adrenaline washes over him and the pain increases ten fold. He can't help but let out a small cry as the it rushes through him. It's everywhere; all at once. As if needles are pricking every cell in his entire body. The sensation travels all the way up through him and for a moment he feels as though his body might give out as it strains against the serum coursing through his blood.

And then quite suddenly, it's over. Chekov lays there, breathing evenly. All the pain has suddenly subsided and a feeling off utter calm has washed over him. He doesn't quite understand. That is, until Everit speaks up.

"See, that wasn't too terrible now was it?" The man asks. Chekov, still reeling from what's just happened, ignores him, turning away. This, apparently, does not sit well with the aged doctor.

"Pavel," he says, tone low and threatening, "I asked a question, to which I expect a response. You _will_ answer me. Now, again, that wasn't too terrible, was it?"

And Chekov, despite every part of his sanity telling him not too, responds back quickly and diligently.

"Nyet, sir," he replies. "Not terrible at all".

The boy lays there in disbelief at the words that have just left his own mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees Everit smile.

"Very good," the doctor praises. "Very good, indeed."

Chekov stares at the ceiling, still stunned that he so willingly responded to the doctor's command. It felt grossly involuntary. Like it was second nature. The very knowledge that he was unable to stop himself from doing something scares him. He remembers the way Sulu pointed a gun at him without a single ounce of hesitation. The thought of what else these people could make them do is almost too much to think about.

"Now then," Everit says, pulling Chekov back into reality. "Seems it's time for your training to begin. We'd better hurry, your first mission briefing is tomorrow".

The doctor reaches for the restraints binding Chekov to the bed and promptly begins to unfasten them. Chekov prepares himself to attack; to run. But before he can, Everit speaks again.

"You won't harm me once you're free," he instructs, loosening the last of the bindings. "Now, follow me. I'll show you to the training facility".

The doctor turns toward the door, back fully exposed, and Chekov realizes the prime opportunity to attack is at hand. But rather than lash out, he finds himself very pointedly sitting up, sliding off the bed, and following orderly behind Everit as they make their way out of the room and into the hall.

Chekov wants to scream out; to do anything that gives him the slightest hope that he's still in control of his own body. But he finds he cannot. There's no fighting back, no escaping; he's a captive in his own mind. The very notion of such a thing is one of near incomprehension, but he's living it, unable to so much as speak on his own terms.

Everit leads Chekov down a short series of corridors before coming to a halt in front of a large, metallic door.

"This is your stop," he tells the boy as he types away on a keypad located next to the entrance. "Sigmen will be your training officer until your first mission. You remember him don't you?"

Chekov nods; again, the response is involuntary. "Da, I do," he replies evenly. Sigmen was the guard who'd accompanied Everit the last time he was in his cell.

"Excellent. Now, good luck in there." Everit grins. "You'll be on your way to your first assignment in no time".

He reaches a hand out and brushes off the tops of Chekov's shoulders and then readjusts the collar of his shirt a bit; as if he's some kind of parent giving last minute advice to their child before the first day of school.

That notion makes Chekov feel nauseous, but he's unable to show it. If only he could cringe at being touched, he would. But he can't. He glances down and notices he's dressed all in black; just like Sulu was the last time he saw him.

Everit steps back, surveying him a moment.

"You'll do great things, Pavel," the doctor says as the door beside him begins to rise. "You may not think so now, but give it time. I'll be back to collect you after your lesson is over. Until then, happy training, my boy."

The doctor turns and takes his leave, disappearing down a corner toward the end of the hall.

Chekov, having his orders, takes a step through the open door. Immediately, he's in awe of everything around him. A dozen or so people, dressed identical to him, all milling about; either working individually or sparring in pairs. There's equipment as far as he can see, much of which he's never encountered before in his life.

He hears a sudden "heads up!", and he turns in just enough time to see a throwing knife flying straight toward his face.

In an instant, he reaches up and catches the knife by the hilt. A sharp exhale escapes him.

How in the _hell_ did he manage to do that?

Chekov sees a tall man approach him, the one who must have thrown the knife. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it's the guard Everit had mentioned: Sigmen.

"Pretty good reflexes," the man comments, nodding towards the knife in the boy's hand. "That serum must have done a number on you, then".

Curiously, Chekov looks over the knife still gripped firmly in his hand. The serum did this?

"Combat enhancement," Sigmen says, answering the question Chekov never actually asked. "Hones reflexes, increases fighting skills. It shouldn't take long to get used to it. It's the obedience aspect that takes a while to adjust to. A lot of people find it…difficult".

Chekov's gaze flickers over the tall man and, for a brief moment, he sees something flash across Sigmen's eyes; something akin to…sympathy. It lasts only a second; but a second is all it takes for a shrivel of doubt to emerge.

The older man sees the boy staring and suddenly stands straighter; as if to correct a mistake he made.

"Ah, er-yes then," he says, formality overtaking his tone again. Any inkling of hesitation Chekov had seen in the man's eyes is gone. Authority has returned in its place. "You can follow me. We'll get started on hand-to-hand combat first".

And Chekov does so, falling in step behind Sigmen as they make their away across the expansive gym. He sees fighting all around him; lethal fighting. Not friendly sparring like he's experienced before. People are dodging left and right, throwing punches and knives like nothing.

He sees all this and he wonders if any of these people were ever like him; lost and afraid and unsure of what's to come. How long ago was that for them, he wonders. How long have they been here, fighting? Unable to leave due to another's command. How long would he be here, suffering in the same silence, seemingly trapped inside his own head without any means of escape?

Chekov decides he doesn't want to know the answer.


	5. Chapter 5

The training is long, lasting nearly _seven_ hours. By the end of it, Chekov feels completely exhausted; barely able to make it to the exit where Doctor Everit is waiting for him. Sigmen walks beside him as they go.

Chekov looks up at the man for a moment and thinks. There's something about Sigmen; something he can't quite understand. He'd disregarded his own doubt at first when it almost seemed the older man empathized with Chekov while mentioning the mind control aspect of the serum. But then more incidents arose; moments where Chekov caught himself second guessing his original impression of Sigmen as a brutish, mindless follower to this organization.

There were times during training where Sigmen had the upper hand and could have seriously done damage due to an error on Chekov's part. And yet, the older man restrained. Chekov remembered the intensity of the others that trained around him: they were nearly killing each other with every hit; he'd even seen someone take a knife to the arm. But somehow, it never got beyond general sparring between himself and Sigmen. It was odd the way the man looked at him: more like a person rather than the soldier the doctor seemed to regard him as.

"I hope training went well?" A sudden voice breaks Chekov from his musings. They've arrived at the exit; Everit is there to receive him.

Sigmen nods in acknowledgement to the old doctor. "Exceptional. Pavel performed above expectations."

Everit grins at that. "Wonderful," he says happily, "just wonderful."

He gives a light pat to Chekov's shoulder to congratulate him on a job well done. Everit then motions towards the hall; indicating the time to leave.

"Come now, my boy," he instructs. "You'll need rest before your mission briefing tomorrow."

Chekov falls in step behind Everit as they make their way back towards the cells. As they near the end of the corridor, Chekov spares a glance over his shoulder to the training door entrance. Sigmen stands there, watching after him; that same look of sympathy upon him that Chekov's seen before.

And then the young ensign turns the corner to follow after Everit and Sigmen is gone from his sight.

He knows there has to be something more to Sigmen; something important that he needs to find out.

Everit leads Chekov back to his original cell and opens it promptly, allowing the boy to enter the small room before sealing him in once more.

"I'll be here to collect you in the morning," Everit calls as he takes his leave. "Get some rest, my boy. You're going to need it tomorrow."

And with that, the doctor is gone, leaving Chekov alone to only himself and his thoughts.

* * *

He wakes sometime later to light footsteps. Blearily, he blinks his eyes open and is startled to find someone standing directly over him. Before he has time to register what's happening, he feels a sharp prick on the skin of his right arm and a sudden rush of adrenaline overtakes him. He quickly recognizes the icy feel of the serum coursing through his veins and stumbles to stand.

"Not too quickly now," Everit's voice chides him. "Wouldn't want you falling and hurting yourself now would we?"

Chekov gasps inward as the adrenaline rush finally passes and he feels his heart rate return to normal. He takes a moment to regain his bearings, wondering why he was injected with another dose of the serum.

Confused, he looks to Everit.

"Not to worry," the doctor tells him. "It's simply standard procedure. While the affects of the serum are impressive, they do have only a short lasting effect. We'll need to administer it every twenty-four hours from now on. It will get easier the longer you have it. You're just beginning your doses now, so it should be some time before those rushes of energy wear off."

Chekov thinks about having to unwillingly receive a dose every day from now on. To wake up and know there's no way out. No escape. No help.

"Anyway," Everit says, "it's time. Your first mission briefing begins in three minutes, so we'd better get going. I hope you're excited, Pavel. I myself recommended you for this one. I thought it'd be a perfect first outing."

Somehow, the older man's assurance doesn't make Chekov feel anymore anticipative of whatever mission he's been assigned to.

"Follow me," Everit instructs.

And Chekov does so, unable to run; unable to escape. Unable to divert from whatever fate awaits him when he receives his first assignment.

* * *

The mission briefing takes place in a small, confined room located near the training area. Upon entry, Chekov notices three people in the room: Sigmen, another tall man he's never seen before, and to Pavel's surprise: Sulu.

The older helmsman glances at the ensign upon his arrival and Chekov feels a twinge of hope as his friend does so. Sulu's gaze lingers and Chekov can only imagine what the man must be thinking right now; what he wishes he could say if it weren't for the serum coursing through his blood.

Chekov can relate. He wishes he could grab Sulu and run; run as fast as they can away from this place and try to get help. But he knows he can't; not with Everit controlling the both of them. They're at the mercy of this place until they can figure out a way to escape. Until then, they're trapped here indefinitely.

The man Chekov did not recognize upon arrival clears his throat, effectively drawing the attention of the others there with him. Everit quietly instructs Chekov to go stand at the front of the room beside Sulu. The ensign obeys promptly and takes his place next to his friend.

"Let's begin then," the tall man says. He stands at attention to introduce himself. "I am Ivan. I will be your overseeing officer for this mission."

Chekov recognizes a thick accent similar to his own. It's not Russian, but definitely sounds Slavic in origin. Perhaps Serbian. Chekov wonders for a moment where the man is from; and how he could have come to find himself in a place such as this.

"You will be deployed in exactly one hour. This is strictly a search and extraction mission. Use whatever force is necessary in order to bring back the intel you need. No casualty is too great for the bigger purpose of this assignment."

Chekov feels his heart race; he doesn't want to have to _kill_ anyone. It's madness. But he feels almost resigned to this fate now: without the ability to even control his own actions, what's to stop him from carrying out the order to murder someone without a single second of hesitation? He realizes he _has_ to find a way to avoid confrontation with anyone that could get hurt on this mission. He hopes maybe his destination won't be a crowded one. If he can manage to maintain a covert position, then maybe he won't run the risk of hurting anyone.

"Your assignment," Ivan continues, drawing back Chekov's attention, "is to seek and retrieve intel from the main networking systems of the starship _Enterprise_."

And the only thought Chekov can process is _no._

No. He won't do it. He won't risk having to break into, having to _steal from_ , his own ship. He won't be forced into hurting his crewmates. He won't. He can't.

And yet, he can. And he will. Because as long as he's not the one calling the shots, he'll have to do this; no matter how much he doesn't want to.

He spares a quick, momentary glance at Sulu. The older helmsman is still facing forward, but Chekov can see him peering at the ensign from the corner of his eye.

What he must be thinking right now, Chekov wonders. How has it gotten to be that in the span of less than one unfortunate day, they'll be _infiltrating_ their own ship.

Chekov's wanted nothing more than to go home since the second he got here, but this is not the way he wanted it to happen.

"Sulu," Ivan addresses the silent helmsman, "your task is to retrieve information regarding the main weaponry systems Starfleet utilizes as well as their construction plans. All ships have an interlinking network of information regarding such. This database is accessible through any computer within the ship, so you will retrieve your needed intel from within the lower levels of engineering. It will be the least monitored part of the ship and should allow you acceptable cover for your mission until your extraction."

Chekov watches Ivan turn to him next, and a knot forms in his stomach as he awaits his assignment.

"Chekov, you are tasked with accessing the mainframe network of the ship in order to retrieve Starfleet security border-control coordinates, specifically those surrounding the Federation's interplanetary stations between here and Earth. This may prove more difficult as we have reason to believe that the only way to access this specific mainframe is through the main console aboard the bridge of the ship."

They have good reason to believe such, Chekov thinks. Because it's true. Intel like that can only be accessed through the main processing system located within the ship's main computer; the very computer he's worked with since he began this journey just a few years ago. But the biggest problem with that, besides the obvious theft of protected Starfleet information, is the fact that the console is indeed located aboard the bridge. Unarguably one of the most safeguarded places on the ship.

"With you having worked aboard the bridge for quite some time, we believe you can confirm or deny our assumptions," Ivan says. "Is it true then? Is the information we need only accessible from aboard the bridge?"

Chekov refuses to reply. He may not have control of his own actions, but neither does this man. Only Everit can order him to do something. Only Everit has control. Unfortunately, the doctor is all too aware of this and speaks up immediately.

"Answer him, Pavel," he orders.

And despite every cell in his body fighting to maintain control, Chekov can only forcefully reply: "Yes."

Ivan gives a small nod, expecting this. "Well then," he says casually, "looks like your job just got a hell of a lot harder, kid."

Chekov feels like that may just be the understatement of the century.

Doctor Everit steps forward, hands interlocked formally behind his back.

"You'll be deployed at a designated time based on the knowledge we have of the ship's working schedule. You both will arrive just shortly after the final shift for the night has ended. The bridge will be all but abandoned, save a few crewmen, undoubtedly. But, as we said before, use of any force is necessary _regardless_ of the circumstances."

The doctor emphasizes that last part, making a point to purposely address only Chekov as he does so.

"I suppose that's it then," he finishes. "You have your assignments. Now it's time for you to suit up for your deployment."

He motions a hand towards the door and both Chekov and Sulu turn to follow.

"Sigmen will take you to the transportation bay. There you'll be equipped with your weapons and then sent off to do the good work we've tasked you with. Be proud, gentlemen. You're both a part of history in the making."

Chekov follows behind Sigmen, with Sulu beside him, as they exit the briefing room and make their way to the transportation bay. In this moment, he wishes for nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole in order to spare him of the fate he's walking straight for; to provide him with the relief of not being forced to hurt his family and his friends.

He knows too well that relief will not come.

* * *

The hour to deployment passes all too quickly. Chekov soon finds himself being equipped with the last of his gear for his mission on the deck of the transporter bay; seconds away from being transported aboard the _Enterprise_.

Sulu is being assisted by another training officer while Sigmen helps Chekov outfit himself. The design of the clothing is simple: completely black pants and shirt covering the entirety of his body, and fingerless gloves providing protection for his hands while still allowing his fingers dexterity. He has a simple belt clipped around his waist with small pockets filled with an assortment of weapons ranging from thin throwing knives to miniature explosives. There's a holster secured firmly to the mid section of his hip; a phaser nesting neatly within.

Chekov watches Sigmen retrieve some items from a drawer before turning to carefully hand him several items; including a black mask exactly like the men who brought him here wore.

"This is yours," Sigmen says, handing off the mask to the younger boy. "It provides protection and several visual enhancements. Nothing too extreme. Night vision, thermal detection. I doubt you'll use any of them on this mission, but protocol is protocol. Never know what problem you'll run in to".

"This is your communicator," he continues, motioning to the small device grasped firmly between his thumb and pointer fingers. "You'll wear it in your ear and be able to hear any commands Ivan and Everit have for you. These missions require you maintain radio silence, so you'll be able to hear them, but they won't be able to hear you. So if you get into trouble, don't bother calling for help. Just make sure you do your job quickly and efficiently. You're on a time limit, so you'll be beamed back whether or not you have your intel. And _trust me_ : you do _not_ want to come back here empty-handed. Understand?"

Chekov nods accordingly, placing the mask over his face. He doesn't even feel like himself anymore. He feels like a pawn in some sick game; a soldier in a battle he never wanted to fight.

"And this," Sigmen says, handing Chekov a thin metal disc, "is how you'll be retrieving your intel. Just toss it onto any part of the helm and it'll secure itself. It will signal to let you know once all the information has been collected. Retrieve it and you'll be beamed back. Simple as that."

The training officer helping Sulu calls to Sigmen to let him know they're ready. Sigmen gives a curt nod in response before turning back towards Chekov.

And there it is again, he thinks. He sees that same look in the older man's eyes. That look of humanity in the otherwise unfeeling appearance Sigmen portrays. He motions for Chekov to step aboard the transporter pad and the ensign does so, glancing over to see Sulu doing the same.

Chekov hears a shout of "ready!" from some unidentified place and quickly feels the familiar sensation of the the transporter coursing through his body.

He sees Sigmen quickly side-eye Sulu's training officer a few feet away before turning his focus immediately back on Chekov.

"Быть осторожен," he says.

And Chekov has only one second to realize that the man's told him "Be careful" in his own native language before the golden light swirling around him envelopes his body completely, and he's gone; destination set for the starship _Enterprise_.


	6. Chapter 6

It only takes Chekov a few seconds to physically adjust following his sudden arrival aboard the _Enterprise_ , but his mind is still back in the transportation bay; hearing Sigmen speaking to him in Russian. Where had it come from? How did the man even know his native language? There's too many questions swirling about in his mind.

From the corner of his eye, a bright flash of light quickly fades, indicating Sulu has arrived as well. He glances at the older man and they both lock gazes momentarily; unable to say anything, unable to run. They have their orders, and no matter how fiercely Chekov fights against the serum controlling him, he can't help but turn away from his older friend and begin his trek towards the bridge.

He spares one last glance over his shoulder and sees Sulu disappear up the stairs of a catwalk; on his way to find an accessible computer to obtain his intel. Chekov only prays the helmsman doesn't run into anyone. He can't bear the thought of his friend hurting anyone else, or anyone else hurting his friend, because of this.

Chekov takes the long way to the bridge, avoiding any use of the turbo-lifts or main walkways. His orders were to remain undercover for as long as possible. He figures he can work with that: the longer he stays hidden, the longer he puts off having to confront anyone aboard the ship.

He's nearly seen a few times, but his newfound agility due to the enhancements of the serum allow him to quickly hide and remain undetected for the majority of his journey towards the bridge.

He's on the last leg of his journey when it inevitably happens: he carefully maneuvers down a side corridor connecting to the bridge and a voice behind him calls out.

"Hey!" It shouts, and Chekov freezes instantly. Slowly, he turns. Behind him stands an older crewman in a red shirt staring straight at him.

"Who the hell are you?" The man asks accusingly, stance defensive and hand already wavering over the communicator at his side.

Chekov does not respond. He's too busy trying to internally battle the instinct the serum is forcing onto him; the instinct to retrieve his phaser and fire upon this man without so much as a second thought. It feels like every molecule in his body is vibrating; his hands are visibly shaking.

"Answer me!" The man demands. "Who are you!"

Chekov wants so desperately to respond. He wishes he could just yell at the top of his lungs and scream and cry and shout for help. But he can't even do that. And now he's struggling fervently to prevent the one thing he promised himself he would fight the instinct to do: kill.

The serum overpowers him and he reaches for the phaser at his side in a single second. He brings it to eye level and aims straight for the red-shirted man's chest.

Oddly though, he doesn't fire immediately, and that's the one shred of hope he grabs onto as he stares down the aim of his weapon. He feels a strange sensation in his chest. The muscles in his arms clench tightly.

And then everything seems to happen at once.

The man grabs for his comm and shouts "intruder aboard" into it before taking a sudden step back and preparing to run.

Chekov, despite that overbearing, unrelenting voice in his head reminding him that he's been ordered to shoot, takes his finger and flips the switch of the gun from kill to stun, and fires.

The blue pulse of light travels through the air and hits the man almost instantaneously; dropping him to the floor with an ungraceful thud.

Chekov stands there, phaser still humming from being fired; hands shaking after realizing what he's just done. He stares at the red-shirted man for a few seconds and, upon seeing his chest rising and falling with every breath, confirms that he did indeed switch the setting of the weapon.

He overcame the order, if only barely.

The moment of power is gone as quickly as it came. He still feels the serum running through his blood; can still feel it compelling him to reach the bridge and finish his mission. But whatever happened, whatever he _managed to do,_ he refused the effects of the serum.

A small crackling in his right ear reminds him of the earpiece he wears. He promptly hears Everit's voice congratulating him.

"Our readings indicate you've discharged your weapon, Pavel. The first of many I assume. Do not dwell on their deaths. They are a necessary cost in a world like this."

So they can't tell that he didn't actually kill anyone, Chekov concludes. That makes a least some part of this just a little bit more manageable.

"Now finish the mission," Everit instructs. "We'll be waiting."

The moment the doctor finishes his sentence, a blaring siren pierces the silence.

Chekov recognizes the emergency alarm that indicates an intruder is aboard the ship. He can honestly say he never imagined that alarm would sound off because of him.

He sprints the final distance to bridge and finds the entrance jammed shut. All doors are sealed under emergency protocol, but Chekov has his orders, and locked doors aren't an acceptable hindrance.

The ensign reaches for the touchscreen mounted on the wall beside the door and enters in his command override password; allowing himself immediate access to the bridge. The doors slide open promptly and he steps in. In the immediate following seconds, he notices two things. One: the bridge is nearly empty, bar the captain and several other officers; including Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, and a security detail consisting of three crewmen. Two: the security crewmen have heir phasers pointed directly at _him._

There's a single beat.

And then phaser fire erupts.

The security crewmen all convene on the perceived intruder, firing at will. Chekov dodges every shot swiftly; rolling, flipping, and jumping to do so. It all feels so involuntary. He'd never be able to manage such feats without the help of the serum. His technique reminds him of the superhero movies Sulu loves to watch: men and women performing impossible stunts in the midst of a fight. Though Chekov can easily say he feels like the farthest thing from a superhero at this moment.

He fires his phaser, thankfully still on stun, at the four security men, landing a direct hit on each swiftly and efficiently. They drop immediately, leaving the entirety of the bridge now unarmed and unprotected.

Chekov races to the front of the bridge towards the main console, but is suddenly knocked to the ground by an unexpected force. The captain has gotten up from his chair and sideswiped Chekov, effectively landing a hit on the otherwise unscathed ensign.

Chekov hits the ground hard and luckily his mask protects his head from most of the impact. The restraints that secure it to his face shatter upon impact, however, and as he goes to stand, it slips off and falls to the floor. Chekov quickly readjusts his position and lifts his phaser to take aim.

"My god," Kirk whispers almost soundlessly, and Chekov is stuck in a state of confusion for a brief moment.

And then, upon realizing that everyone can now see him without the aid of his mask, Chekov's gaze spreads across the bridge. He takes in the shocked faces of the few people around him. Chekov sees Uhura's unmasked disbelief. He sees Spock standing beside the Captain's chair, looking far more surprised than Chekov can confidently say he's ever seen the Vulcan before.

And then he sees Kirk, standing motionless; face painted in confusion and shock.

The part of him still following the mission retrieves the intel device from his belt and tosses it at the back of the main console. It attaches; instantaneously beginning the process of searching for and extracting the information he came for.

The other part of him; the one still fighting desperately against the hold the serum has on him, holds his phaser with shaking hands; almost pleading with the universe that he doesn't have to stun anyone else. Because if he has to watch himself fire at any one of his family; if he hast to watch himself unwillingly harm Uhura or Spock or god forbid even the Captain, he's pretty sure he won't ever recover from that. So he prays a silent prayer that they stay back and don't invoke that instinct within him that's been forcing him to shoot.

Kirk takes a step forward and Chekov's heart nearly leaps from his chest as his finger begins to settle on the trigger of the phaser. Seeing this however, Kirk puts his hands in the air in surrender and takes the step back.

"Chekov," Kirk says, tone laced with confusion and fear. "What happened to you?"

The younger boy wants desperately to respond; to tell the Captain every horrifying detail of the past two days and to tell him he needs help. But he just can't. It frustrates him more than anything ever has in his entire life. All he can do is stand there, pointing a gun at the very people he calls family.

Upon not receiving a response, Kirk speaks again.

"Put your weapon down, Pavel," he instructs. "Everything's going to be alright. Just put the phaser down."

Chekov pushes every remaining piece of willpower he has left against the serum coursing through his veins; just so he can adhere to the pleading of his concerned captain. But the effort is in vain. Whatever happened before, whatever strength he had to overcome the serum, is gone.

A tense moment passes until the shrill beeping of the device attached to the console sounds; alerting Chekov that the intel has been collected and the time to leave is now. Swiftly, he reaches for the contraption and pockets it. He hears Everit in his ear telling him to prepare for transport. Chekov glances again at Kirk, taking in the hurt expression upon his captain's face.

The moment he spends doing so causes him a temporary distraction, and before he has a chance to blink, Chekov sees a wave of six security crewmen burst through the door; phasers aimed directly at him.

"Hold your fire!" Kirk screams. But he's not quick enough.

Phaser shots ring out across the bridge and Chekov does his best to avoid them. He avoids what could have been several fatal hits, but six against one is too many, and he can't dodge one of the shots quick enough.

His right shoulder takes a direct hit and he screams out in agony as each nerve is suddenly ablaze with a searing pain unlike anything he's ever felt before. He uses his left hand to cover the wound, blood spilling out between his fingers. He hears footsteps rapidly approaching and then the subsequent shout of the Captain telling his men to stand down.

Chekov glances up and sees Kirk approaching him cautiously, a single hand outstretched to help him. But Chekov knows he won't get to him in time. He can already feel the effects of transporter beginning to whisk him away from here; back to where he came from.

He squeezes his eyes shut, bracing against the pain in his shoulder. He hears a few shouts of alarm as the bridge crew suddenly notices the golden light swirling around him.

Chekov hears Kirk give one last desperate shout of "Wait!" before the ensign is gone completely. Ripped right out from under the crew of the _Enterprise_ again; headed straight back into the hands of those who took him before.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Kirk can't even find the focus to breathe for a moment. His capacity for thought has all but vanished, leaving behind nothing except panic and a multitude of unanswered questions.

He's frozen in time it seems; his hand still outstretched, reaching for nothing but air now. He blinks once and then lowers his arm, but his eyes stay fixated on the same spot just a few feet ahead of him. Horrid splashes of blood stain the otherwise pristine white floor.

Kirk's mind fumbles through muddled thoughts as he tries desperately to make sense of what he's just seen. If it wasn't for the drops of blood left behind, he would honestly have to think the whole thing wasn't real. Perhaps he is in some weird, anxiety-induced dream that's been triggered by the past two day's harrowing events.

But as he manages to peel his eyes away from the spot where his youngest crewmember kneeled down bleeding not thirty seconds ago, he understands all too well that whatever's just happened is no dream. One look at the faces of the remaining bridge crew tell him he's still stitched tightly into reality.

There's an ulterior panic gnawing at him, but he knows he can't allow himself to be overcome by it. The longer he stands there, gripped fervently by a fear he's only known since becoming a Captain, the more time he wastes. Time that could be spent finding and rescuing his missing crewmates.

"Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, you're with me," Kirk orders swiftly as he makes a commanding beeline for the turbolift. "The rest of you," he says, addressing the entirety of the bridge, "I want this place on lockdown starting _now_. No one makes a single move on my ship unless we know about it, understood?"

A tight chorus of "yes captain" sounds off and he nods, momentarily satisfied.

Uhura and Spock follow him onto the turbolift and they're all promptly whisked away from the bridge. There's a heavy silence between the three officers that's only challenged by the droning hum of their transportation.

The turbolift stops in engineering. The three of them exit swiftly and are immediately met with a world of mass panic. Crewmembers everywhere, rushing around frantically, some helping to pick others up off the ground, others sprinting across the room shouting a mess of orders and commands. Many of those receiving help are dazed and stumbling; some have fresh bruises on their faces.

There's one familiar and especially panicked face that Kirk picks out immediately.

"Scotty!" He calls out above the chaos. The older man's head perks and he turns toward the origin of the call. There's a flash of relief in Scotty's eyes, but it's brief. He quickly makes his way over, careful not to collide with any of the other scrambling engineers around him.

"Captain," he says, "you're nae gonna believe this, but we found the intruder that set off the alarms, sir."

"You saw Chekov here?" Kirk asks suddenly, verbally pouncing on the engineer.

Scotty gives a puzzled look, shaking his head.

"Chekov? Nae, sir, I'm talking about Mr. Sulu. We saw him, here, in engineering."

Kirk can't hide the stunned shock on his face.

"Sulu? What happened? Did he say anything? Why was he here?"

"Hell if I know, Jim!" Scotty answers, exasperated. "Like a right fighter that one was. I've never seen anything like it. He beat senseless every person that got within a foot of him. We were able get the phaser out of his hands, but he just didn't stop! Took some bloody machine and plugged it into one of the computers down here. By the time we all recovered, he was gone."

Kirk runs a frantic hand through his hair.

A few seconds pass and he can sense the sudden realization Scotty has.

"Wait, but Captain," he says, "you mentioned Chekov. Was…was the lad here too, sir?"

He looks to Spock and Uhura, but their expressions are just as befuddled as his own.

"Yeah," Kirk answers. "He was on the bridge not two minutes ago. And from what you saw here, I think they may have been here for the same reason."

"What reason?" Scotty asks.

"I don't know," Kirk replies, defeat dragging his every word. "But whatever we all saw is connected. It's not a coincidence that both Chekov and Sulu go missing at the same time in the same place only to reappear two days later without any warning or indication."

There's a long stretch of silence.

"What the _hell_ is going on, Jim?" Scotty finally voices the thought that's unarguably been running through everyone's minds ever since their two friends disappeared.

Again, Kirk has no way to answer the man's question. He shakes his head. This isn't right. This just isn't _right._ Nothing about the past two days have made sense, but even worse they haven't even come close to an answer that explains anything. They have to be missing something. There _has_ to be something that can lead them to Chekov and Sulu.

Kirk thinks back to just a little under 48 hours ago; when everything went wrong. He recalls watching the footage from the training center. He remembers watching as two of his crewmen were stolen right out from under him without a single trace of evidence left behind. Kirk starts his profile there: so these men were quick and efficient, that's one thing. They also knew how to fight in a team formation, which means they've probably had training.

These revelations do little to indicate where Chekov and Sulu could actually be, however, and Kirk only grows frustrated with each passing second. They have nothing; no evidence, no clues. Nothing. If only they could somehow go back two days, retrace their steps, maybe then they could-

And then Kirk's mind halts suddenly as he picks out a single word from his frantic thought train: _retrace._ Just like that, a glimmer of potential hope springs to life in his chest.

"Scotty, do you think you could trace the outgoing transporter signals from the ship?"

Scotty, immediately following the captain's thought process, gives an exhilarated nod before turning and sprinting towards the nearest computer console. Kirk follows quickly after the man with Spock and Uhura close behind.

"So, is that a yes?" Kirk asks, watching Scotty type away like a madman on the interface.

"Yes, Cap'n, sorry sir," the engineer answers, not taking his eyes off his work. "Got a wee bit excited there for a moment. But, yes, I can. If I could just intercept any recent quantum emissions, then I must just…"

The older man trails off in concentration momentarily before letting out an excited shout.

"There!" He exclaims, pointing to a faint, but very present, trail of fading warp signals.

"It's not much, but it should be enough to track," Scotty asserts happily.

Kirk nods. Good, they've got a foothold to start on. But he can't let their sudden progress stop here; they need to keep moving.

"Mr. Scott, work on finding out where those trails lead back to. I want to know their _exact_ location of origin."

"Aye, sir," Scotty acknowledges, already delving into the interface readings once more.

Now, Kirk thinks to himself, they have something to work with as far as finding out where Chekov and Sulu are. The problem is, they still don't know anything about the people who took them in the first place.

"We need to work on figuring out who those men were and how they were able to get aboard the ship," Kirk says, looking to both Spock and Uhura. "The more we know about them, the more we can use to help get Chekov and Sulu back."

"Where would we even start?" Uhura asks. "The security team found no evidence left behind in the training center."

Kirk watches Spock furrow his brow in response to the Lieutenant's remark and physically pauses for a moment, his gaze locked on a faraway place. Kirk knows that look.

"What are you thinking, Spock?" Kirk asks.

"Captain, earlier I reviewed the footage from Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu's abductions, but from different locations just before the physical altercation took place. It seems the intruders were beamed aboard the ship quite a considerable distance from the training center, but then managed to make their way there promptly with no hindrance whatsoever."

"You're suggesting they knew the layout of the _Enterprise?_ " Kirk assesses.

Spock gives a curt nod. "Precisely. Such knowledge would have to be obtained in some way. Somehow, these men either came by the information about the ship themselves, a quite unlikely scenario considering all starship blueprints and schematics require officer level authority clearance to access…"

"Or?" Kirk asks expectantly.

"Or, they were _given_ the information."

"Given?" Kirk repeats.

"You think someone aboard the ship helped make this happen," Uhura breathes, fully articulating what Spock's words are trying to insinuate.

"I believe the colloquial Earth term is 'double-crosser'," Spock says.

Kirk has to take a second to let that sink in. His crew is his _family._ How could one of them, _any_ of them, betray him and everyone else on the ship like this? It's not to say he's naïve to the notion of being lied to and led on by someone he trusts. Admiral Marcus made very sure of that.

But this is his _crew_. His life. The people he's sworn to protect. No, he doesn't want to face the fact that someone aboard his ship is a traitor, but if it means saving the lives of two of his closest friends in the world, then so be it.

"So we have someone on the ship feeding information to an outside source," Kirk evaluates. "Next step is finding out who that is so that we can get an idea of what we're headed for once we trace the location of those transporter signals."

"How do you suggest we find them?" Uhura asks.

Kirk ponders this for a moment and then glances up at Spock.

"How long would it take to comb through the crew activity logs of the day Chekov and Sulu went missing?"

"It depends," Spock replies. "Certainly if we were to catalog the entirety of the crew's logs that day, it could take a considerable amount of time. An amount I'm certain we cannot afford at this point."

"What if we narrowed down the search. Only include the people who didn't check in for their shifts that day?"

Spock considers this.

"That would shrink the number of potential candidates substantially, but any number of crewmembers may have not reported for assigned duty that day for a wide variety of reasons. And how can we assume our suspect indeed did not sign in that afternoon?"

Kirk curses internally. Perhaps his idea was too short-lived.

"What if we cross-reference the crew's activity logs from the days leading up to the abductions with granted access to the ship's database?" Uhura suggests. "If this person obtained information about the _Enterprise's_ schematics from onboard, then we'd be able to see who retrieved them recently."

A proud smile tugs at the corner of Kirk's mouth.

"Perfect," he says, a renewed optimism flooding his tone.

Spock immediately begins leafing through crew records and logs on his tablet.

"I'll program the search to only include activity logs from the past week," he says, the soft glow of the handheld tablet turning his skin a tinted blue.

"Have it look for access to ship blueprints. Especially the ones containing the layout of ship around the training center."

Spock enters in a string of commands promptly and waits a few seconds for feedback.

A small list of names appears. Kirk is relieved to see the manageable number of possibilities they have to work with.

"I have results showing twelve authorized accesses to the ship's schematics within the past seven days," Spock relays.

"Most of them are engineers," Uhura points out, eyes glancing over the listed names. "It makes sense why they'd be looking for ship blueprints."

Kirk quickly scans over the data as well, noting one particular discrepancy.

"What about him?" He says, pointing at a name towards the latter half of the list.

"Ensign Garrett Bailey," Spock reads aloud. "Security detail C. Previous ship assignments: none. He accessed the ship's database exactly three days before Mr. Chekov and the Lieutenant were abducted."

"What's a security jockey doing with ship blueprints?" Uhura asks skeptically.

"Nothing worthwhile, I'm sure," Kirk says. "Spock, bring up his file from the crew history logs."

Spock's fingers fly across the tablet for a few seconds before he lists off more of the information the search retrieves.

"He was assigned to the _Enterprise_ just under a year ago," he reads. "He did not attend Starfleet Academy, however, but his application was accepted citing 'exceptional credentials and recommendation'."

That was weird, Kirk thought. It was a very rare case that anyone was allowed to work aboard a starship without any Academy training, let alone work within a security detail designed to _protect_ the ship.

"Who signed off on the recommendation?" Kirk asks.

Spock taps the screen and brings up a portrait of an aged man, eyes slightly hidden by thin glasses.

"Dr. Jonathan Everit," he reads. "A renowned medical scientist who was a member of the Federation's lead research facility. He contributed greatly to many of the Federation's major medical breakthroughs revolving around nervous system and cerebral reconstruction. However, he was dishonorably discharged from Starfleet due to unethical research and testing methods."

Kirk feels a cold shiver snake its way up the back of his spine at the thought of what that could mean.

"When was he discharged?" He asks.

"Eleven months ago."

"Just after Bailey was assigned to the ship," Uhura points out.

Kirk slowly feels the pieces fall into place.

"So either this guy Bailey just so happened to impress Everit so much that he immediately signed off on his recommendation…"

"Or Everit knew he was going to be reprimanded for his actions, and therefore needed someone to remain in Starfleet in order to access any resources he would no longer have," Spock finishes.

Uhura shakes her head. "A man on the inside," she mumbles.

Kirk feels a small flame of anger ignite in his stomach, burning with rage at the thought of someone spying on his crew; _lying_ to everyone, just to get information out of the ship.

He's walking rapidly out of engineering before he even has a moment to think on his actions.

"Kirk?" Uhura calls after him.

"I want Bailey found, _now_ ," Kirk orders, voice all too serious and completely void of his usual lighthearted tone.

He will not stand for someone hurting his crew; for putting his family in harms way. He made a promise to himself, and to his missing crew. He will find them.

And he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

* * *

 **Sorry this update was a month wait. I went back and kind of revamped the story from my original idea of where the plot would go. That in and of itself took quite a bit of time, and I didn't want to just post a chapter I felt wouldn't contribute well to the overall story. But nevertheless, that means I have the next chapter nearly finished so it should be up fairly soon. Thanks for reading, don't forget to review if you liked the chapter, and as always, I hope you all have a very wonderful day.**


	8. Chapter 8

It doesn't take long to find Bailey. He's on duty and working his shift, still trying to keep up whatever act he's been playing since he was first assigned to the ship. The thought of that leaves a bitter taste in Kirk's mouth. Knowing about the intricate deception that's plagued his crew for the better part of a year is why he finds Bailey's feigned innocence all the more infuriating.

Kirk musters every ounce of his reserve to compose himself as he enters the security detail's break room. Despite the rage burning inside him, Kirk knows he has to play this smart; no matter how difficult it is to do so. He can't let Bailey know that his presence on this ship earns him a death wish from pretty much every single member of the senior crew. Not yet at least.

Bailey's seated on the other side of the room, lazily leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. He has a book in hand and a cup of hot coffee in the other, at first barely registering anyone's entered the room. The man's eyes flit up from the pages of his book as he takes a long sip of his coffee, and instantly, he plunges headlong into a panic. Eyes widening and book falling unconsciously from his hand, he sputters on his coffee before quickly standing at attention.

"Captain!" He chokes out, quickly noticing the coffee dripping down his shirt before frantically trying wipe it away.

Kirk resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"At ease, Ensign," he instructs. Bailey's posture relaxes slightly, but his eyes still dart nervously away from the captain's scrutinizing gaze.

There's an uncomfortable pause that Kirk fully intends to utilize. The more anxious he can make Bailey, the better. The officer's movements are tense and his demeanor is skittish. He's noticeably apprehensive at having to spend even a second more in the confining atmosphere Kirk has created.

"Is…is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Bailey asks, clearly trying-and quite plainly failing-to resolve the tension.

Kirk raises a skeptical eyebrow, and the other man visibly shrinks under the captain's glare. Kirk seizes the moment to make his first move.

"No, there's nothing," he assures Bailey, quickly pivoting from scrutiny to casual conversation, "I'm only touring the lower decks to check in on everything. Make sure the ship is running efficiently and all. But, I guess it seems everything is normal down here, so I'll just be on my way then."

And at this, Bailey unclenches from his initial panic; almost sighs. He's unwary now, completely unsuspecting of the captain's true intentions.

"Have a good day sir," he says, happily bidding the captain farewell.

Kirk nods once, gives a firm smile, and turns to leave. He can already hear the exhale of relief from the officer.

Kirk lets the moment last; lets Bailey reassure himself for just a few more seconds that he'll get away with it all. Kirk is just stepping over the threshold of the exit when he pulls up short. He turns abruptly, pretending as though he's suddenly remembered something he forgot to mention.

"Oh," he says, watching as Bailey stares him down nervously, apprehension clear in his expression. "I actually do remember: I had a quick question for you. Commander Spock was going through crew activity logs, you know, protocol and all that."

At mention of the activity logs, Bailey's face drains of all visible color.

"He noticed you accessed a number of ship schematics in the past two weeks. Thought it was odd, you know? A security officer accessing blueprints for a part of the ship he doesn't even work in. He brought it to me, but I figured it was all just a big misunderstanding. I'm sure you have a reasonable explanation for accessing the schematics, right Ensign?"

Kirk might almost feel bad for the guy if he wasn't directly responsible for the disappearance of two crewmen. Bailey is fidgeting; breaking eye contact every five seconds and mind clearly fumbling to form a coherent sentence. Kirk crosses his arms expectantly, waiting for a response.

"Well, I…you see, sir, I…was looking at the schematics because I needed-well, I mean-I _thought_ it would be beneficial…to…well, _familiarize_ myself with sections of the ship I'm uh, less…familiar…with."

Kirk can tell even Bailey himself is having a hard time believing his own bullshit lies. Kirk nods nonetheless, feigning approval of the man's answer.

"Ah, that explains it then," he says, nodding. "My apologies, Mr. Bailey, we're currently investigating a suspected breach in security. Can't leave any stoned unturned though, eh?"

Kirk gives a small smile and Bailey nods, laughing nervously.

"Of course, no harm done, Captain," Bailey replies, demeanor relaxing. "A security breach is quite serious. But I assure you: if I hear anything about those crewmen's disappearances, I will let you know straight away."

And it's that last part Kirk's been waiting to hear. _Got him._

"Ensign?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I never said _what_ the security breach was about."

And the following three seconds seem out of time as Bailey freezes, motionless; instantly wishing he could take back the last two minutes entirely. Kirk stares him down, unyielding. Neither speaks. Neither moves.

There's a beat.

And suddenly Bailey's reaching for his waistband in a fumbling whirlwind of panic. His hand grasps the phaser at his side and Kirk is quick to make a grab for the nearest object he can get his hands on. He eyes the steaming mug of coffee on the table and, knowing it's pretty much the closest thing he's going to get to a weapon, grasps it tightly, launching the scalding contents upward and out.

Bailey screams as the burning liquid splashes his face, hands instinctively flying upward for protection. Kirk reaches forward and rips the phaser out of Bailey's hand before roughly shoving him backward. Bailey stumbles over his own chair and crashes into the wall, hands still grasping his burning face.

The door to the break room flies open and both Spock and Uhura enter, phasers drawn.

Kirk grabs two fistfuls of Ensign Bailey's shirt and bodily slams him against the wall, nearly lifting the officer off his feet.

"Captain, are you injured?" Spock asks.

"I'm fine, Spock," Kirk answers, not taking his steely gaze off the groaning man he has pinned against the wall. "I was lucky enough to be quicker on the draw than Mr. Bailey here."

The injured officer moans, obviously still in pain. Kirk could care less. He roughly maneuvers Bailey around himself and into one of the chairs at the table.

Spock holsters his phaser swiftly before making his way toward Kirk. Uhura keeps her weapon trained on Bailey for security.

"I should assume you determined Ensign Bailey to be the culprit we suspected him to be?" Spock asks.

"Pretty much," Kirk replies, eyeing the man in question warily. Bailey's recovering; quite quickly realizing the trouble he now finds himself in.

Kirk makes his way around the opposite side of the table, motioning for Spock to follow.

"So," he begins, taking a seat in the chair across from Bailey, "this is going to go one of two ways, and I consider myself a fair man, so I'll let you take your pick: you can either tell us everything we need to know and then _maybe_ you'll get a more lenient prison sentence when I tell the council you cooperated with us during your interrogation. _Or,_ you can stay quiet, stand your ground, and live the rest of your life in jail on charges of conspiracy and kidnapping. But I assure you, Mr. Bailey, we _will_ find out what you know about my two missing crewmen, whether you're willing to disclose that information or not."

Kirk watches Bailey consider the ultimatum; sees the internal conflict play out across his face. Surely it must be a difficult decision, and Kirk doesn't know what kind of punishment Bailey might face from his own co-conspirators should he betray them. But none of that matters right now. What matters is rescuing Chekov and Sulu. And Kirk is willing to do whatever it takes to find them.

After a considerable stretch of silence, Kirk prompts the officer once more.

"Well? What's it going to be?"

Bailey looks up, staring straight at Kirk, unblinking. He folds his hands together on top of the table and leans forward slightly.

"Go to hell."

And Kirk knows that's all the man is going to say on the matter. Composing his rage, he stands and turns to Spock. All he does is nod once and the first officer understands. They'd discussed the matter beforehand, knowing full well it was most likely going to be their only option.

Spock moves toward the other side of the table and instantly, Bailey leans away.

"Hey, what are you doing?" The officer asks, voice rising in a heightened panic.

"There is a technique in my culture know as taroon-ifla," Spock explains, rounding the edge of the table. "Though, to humans, it is colloquially known as a _mind meld._ Are you familiar with this terminology, Mr. Bailey?"

Clearly the officer understands because he's leaping out of his seat to run the second Spock gets within an arm's length of him.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Uhura cuts in, tone low and dour. She points her phaser at Bailey. Her eyes are narrowed, almost asking him to test her.

At sight of the phaser pointed right as his chest, Bailey holds his hands up in surrender.

"Don't I get the right to refuse this?" Bailey asks, panicked and clearly stalling for time.

Kirk has no sympathy in his response.

"You lost the right to anything the moment you betrayed my crew."

Spock reaches forward and places his hand on Bailey's face before the officer has another second to protest.

Kirk watches as Bailey goes stiff, eyes unfocused and staring at a place far beyond the distance. Spock's brow is furrowed; his eyes shut in concentration. Kirk glances nervously at Uhura, who returns his uneasiness as she meets his gaze, hand still tightly grasping her phaser.

The meld lasts less than a minute, but the second it ends, Kirk can immediately tell something is wrong. Spock looks clearly distressed; he stumbles back as his hand falls from Bailey's face. Kirk takes a cautious step forward.

"Spock, what's-"

"Captain!" Spock cuts him off, yelling out and pointing towards where Bailey is standing.

Kirk whips his gaze to Bailey and watches, astonished, as one of the man's teeth dislodges from his gums and falls onto his tongue.

"You can't save them," Bailey whispers. "They're as good as dead."

Then he takes the fallen tooth and bites down, crushing it instantly.

Kirk is paralyzed as he watches Bailey begin to violently convulse, foam spilling from his mouth and eyes rolling into the back of his head. The officer falls to the floor, seizing. Kirk is spurred into action as he runs and crashes to his knees next to Bailey, but he knows there's nothing he can do. He watches, helpless, as the man dies at his feet. With one last, stuttering breath, Bailey stills, eyes glazing over; motionless.

"What the hell happened?' Kirk demands, turning to look at Spock. The vulcan has regained his composure; though he still looks quite shaken from the meld itself.

"A concealed cyanide pill," Spock explains. "I believe it was given to him by Dr. Everit to be used should he ever face revealing confidential information concerning his co-conspirators. Once he realized I would learn everything he knew following the meld, he accessed the pill. But I'm afraid I was too compromised by the emotional transfer as a result, and was not able to alert you until it was too late."

Kirk casts a disdainful glance at Bailey's body, though he can't help but feel a small twinge of pity ebb at him.

"There's nothing else we can do now," Kirk says, shaking his thoughts clear of the matter. "Is there anything you saw that can lead us to where Chekov and Sulu are?"

Spock nods, but his expression is grim.

"I do not know their exact location. I have only seen the exterior and interior structure. Though I believe Mr. Scott will be able to lead us there if we follow the warp traces he discovered earlier."

Kirk nods approvingly.

"Anything about Everit? Or why they took Chekov and Sulu in the first place?"

At this question, Spock's expression falls even further. His brow furrows in distaste, and he nods.

"It seems Jonathan Everit, shortly before his discharge from Starfleet, stumbled upon an organization constructed solely for the purpose of tearing down the Federation. Everit was the subject of an intense Starfleet investigation for unethical research and testing methods and knew he would most likely be dismissed from his position on the board. Mr. Bailey was a research assistant under Everit's authority. He was approached by Everit and offered some kind of monetary compensation should he assist Everit once the doctor was discharged. Mr. Bailey agreed and, with Everit's higher up connections, was assigned to the _Enterprise_ as a part of its security detail."

"Dr. Everit would speak monthly with Ensign Bailey, asking for confidential information and resources only a Starfleet officer would have access to. Dr. Everit is the outside source Mr. Bailey was sending information to."

Kirk takes some time to consider all that Spock has said; to let it all fully sink in. He pauses for a brief moment before asking another question.

"Did Bailey know anything about the organization Everit works for?"

"Dr. Everit rarely shared many details with Mr. Bailey due to what I assume must be extensive security protocols. But, it seems he did provide some insight into what he was working on. He called it 'The Corps of Universal Peace', though from what I saw, the name implies anything but. The organization kidnapped dozens of people from across the galaxy; people they found were intellectually advanced and useful to them. They then forced them to carry out missions for the organization: assignments ranging anywhere from stealing information to kidnapping more people to recruit; sometimes even killing anyone who posed a threat to the corps' existence."

Kirk shakes his head, wrapped up in confusion, anger, and disgust all at the same time.

"How do you force someone to do something like that?" He asks incredulously. Despite the general nature of his question, he knows it has a far more personal meaning that he does not voice out loud: how did someone manage to force two of his _closest friends_ to do something like that?

"The answer is not clear," Spock replies, much to Kirk's disappointment. "Though there is some indication that the people under the command of the corps were not acting of their own accord or willpower. It seems more plausible that they were under the influence of something else. Some kind of drug or toxin, perhaps."

Kirk stares at his first officer, expression agape with disbelief at what Spock is implying.

"You mean like _mind control_?" Kirk pointedly emphasizes those last two words.

Spock nods simply.

"Precisely."

Kirk releases a long, exasperated exhale. Mind control, he thinks. Mind control. That's the answer behind all this. He feels physically sick to his stomach imagining what Chekov and Sulu must be feeling right now; what they must be thinking.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair as he thinks of what their next move will be.

"Is there anything you can tell us about the security surrounding the place? Defenses, weaponry, security?"

Spock shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, no," he answers. "I only know that wherever the corps is located is heavily camouflaged; though by what, I did not see. It will be difficult to detect, that much is certain."

Kirk takes a long pause; slowly piecing together a plan in his head.

"Looks like we're on our own then," he decides. Despite the impossible difficulty their rescue mission faces them with, he's determined to overcome it.

"It'll be hard to avoid detection once we arrive, so we'll have to be quick. I want an away team put together and ready to beam out the second we find that place."

Spock nods in agreement.

"And once we enter the facility?"

Kirk doesn't mince words.

"We find Chekov and Sulu and then we _get out_. We'll contact Starfleet on the way there. They'll be able to send help to rescue any other prisoners that will undoubtedly be inside the compound too. Our main focus now is strictly a rescue mission."

The plan seems solid enough. Kirk is keen to leave and find Scotty so they can get underway, but Spock speaks up first.

"Captain," he begins, sounding oddly hesitant.

Kirk looks to his first officer expectantly.

"It is entirely possible that Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov may still be under the influence of whatever mind-altering substance the corps has been utilizing. And based on what we saw when Mr. Chekov was aboard the bridge and Mr. Scott's account of Mr. Sulu's behavior, I don't doubt the same hostility may still be present should we encounter them."

A million scenarios swirl across Kirk's mind in a single second and the thought of having to physically harm either of his two crewmen feels like it will knock him right off his feet.

"It won't come to that," Kirk insists.

Spock seems fairly skeptical.

"We cannot predict any specific course of action, Captain," Spock explains. "It would be wise to consider an alternative. If we were to alter the settings of our phasers to stun, then-"

"Spock," Kirk interrupts, an unspoken warning backing his tone. He cannot fathom having to stun, to even fire his phaser, at two of his closest friends in this world.

Kirk feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and turns to see Uhura staring at him; expression soft and understanding. She gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"It won't come to that," she says, gently reassuring Kirk with his own words before turning to look at Spock. The two gaze at one another for a moment. Spock then nods; a brief, unspoken agreement settling any opposition he previously held. Kirk looks to Uhura, grateful. She smiles in return.

Kirk straightens and looks to both Uhura and Spock.

"I want both of you on the bridge contacting Starfleet. Let them know we'll need immediate assistance. Once Scotty traces the origin of those warp signals, we'll head straight for it. We'll beam the away team down once we're in close enough proximity to the compound."

Both Uhura and Spock nod in acknowledgment before quickly taking their leave towards the bridge.

Kirk casts another glance at Ensign Bailey's unmoving body. He does his best to dispel the horrible thoughts that enter his mind as he imagines either of his crewmen meeting the same fate.

No, he thinks. He made a promise. He will find them.

And he _will_ find them alive.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Sorry for the month delay in updating. In a brilliant move of pure intelligence, I accidentally deleted the saved copies of both this chapter AND the next one. So rewriting those was one part determination and two parts self-loathing. These chapters were made with my utmost love for you guys due to my stupidity of having to write them twice. I hope you enjoy them. As always, if you like the chapter, please leave a review. I hope you all have a wonderful evening!_**

* * *

 _"_ _That was_ _ **humiliating**_ _," Hikaru says, angrily storming through the entrance to his dorm room._

 _"_ _It could have been worse," Pavel counters pointedly, following close behind his furious roommate._

 _"_ _Worse?" Sulu repeats, throwing an arm wildly in the air for emphasis. "How could it have possibly been_ _ **worse**_ _? The entire review committee was there watching the simulation! I'm probably lucky they didn't send me home right then and there!"_

 _"_ _I understand you're upset, Hikaru, but this isn't the end of the world. The committee knows how well you do in your classes. They know what you're capable of. One failed flight simulation isn't going to ruin all your hard work."_

 _"_ _Don't pander to me," Sulu retorts venomously, "you're the one who threw me under the bus by calling me out on my trajectory calculations and making it look like I'd never flown a shuttlecraft in my entire life!"_

 _Chekov is taken aback by the man's words and can't help but feel a small bit of resentment boil inside him._

 _"_ _I was only trying to help. If I hadn't pointed out the error in your trajectory, you never would have made it past the first half of the simulation."_

 _Sulu scoffs._

 _"_ _Like it even mattered. If anything, you just gave me more time to make a complete fool of myself."_

 _Chekov watches as the older man angrily storms out of the room, slamming the door as he goes. His friend's anger is understandable, but it doesn't make the words sting any less. Chekov thinks for a moment, wondering if he should pursue the issue further._

 _With a resigned sigh, he climbs into bed; deciding to avoid anymore of an argument with his roommate._

 _Some time later, Chekov wakes to see Sulu in a chair, quietly reading under the light of his desk lamp._

 _"_ _What time is it?" Chekov asks blearily, eyes struggling to focus on his alarm clock._

 _"_ _Little after midnight," Sulu responds, tone and demeanor quite calmer than before._

 _Chekov sits up and yawns, stretching his arms out as he does so._

 _There's an awkward pause and Chekov can see Sulu gearing up to say something before sheepishly looking down at his shoes._

 _Finally, the man garners the courage to speak._

 _"_ _Listen, Pav, about earlier-"_

 _"_ _Don't worry about it, Hikaru," Chekov says honestly, "I understand."_

 _"_ _No, I want to apologize," Sulu continues. "I was acting like an absolute ass. I didn't mean to take it out on you."_

 _The older man sighs, leaning back in his chair._

 _"_ _I was just so irritated. I practiced for this simulation for so long only to have it completely blow up in my face. It's frustrating. I feel like I've set these impossible expectations for myself and when even the smallest thing goes wrong, it feels like the end of everything."_

 _Chekov nods in understanding. He can surely relate._

 _"_ _Anyway," Sulu sighs, looking up at Chekov. "I'm sorry for yelling at you and for saying what I did. I really am."_

 _Chekov smiles._

 _"_ _Water over the bridge," he tells the older man._

 _Sulu struggles to contain a small laugh and Chekov cringes inwardly. He's not quite used to English yet._

 _"_ _I said that wrong, didn't I?"_

 _Sulu gives the boy a reassuring smile._

 _"_ _Under the bridge," he corrects politely. "But actually, I like your version better. Water over the bridge. I'm going to start using that."_

 _Chekov rolls his eyes, laughing, and leans over to flick his bedside lamp off._

 _He settles into bed comfortably and watches as Sulu reaches for his light as well. The man pauses mid-stretch and speaks._

 _"_ _By the way, I really do appreciate you calling me out on my mistake, despite what I said before. You saved my ass from failing that sim even worse than I did. Thanks for looking out for me in there," he says._

 _"_ _Always," Chekov replies._

* * *

"Pavel."

A voice.

"Pavel, wake up."

It sounds concerned. Panicked.

"Pavel, you need to wake up. _NOW!"_

Chekov's eyes flash open and an involuntary gasp escapes him. Immediately, he notices he's not alone. There's a person seated next to him.

Sigmen.

Chekov goes to sit up but finds his hands held fast at his sides. He takes a moment to analyze his situation: he's in a room not unlike the one he woke up in before. Same restraints, same IV bag hanging from a metal hook, same needle protruding from the vein in his arm. Except this time, there is something different.

As full consciousness returns to him, he begins to notice a slight pain in his right shoulder. There's a bandage wrapped tightly around it. Suddenly, he remembers everything that has happened.

Panicked, he looks to Sigmen.

"Calm down," the man instructs evenly, voice barely above a whisper. "You were injured on your mission. They took you to the medical wing as soon as you arrived back, but you've been out for a while. Now I know you must have a lot of questions, but I don't have a lot of time to answer them. I'll do my best with the time I have, but I need you to give me a chance to explain alright?"

"Alright," Chekov responds.

And instantly, he freezes in realization.

He spoke.

He spoke without any command or instruction. On his own. No influence. Just him.

"The serum…" Chekov begins, nearly speechless.

"Has worn off," Sigmen finishes, reaching over to undo the restraints around Chekov's wrists. "Like I said, you were out for a long time and the serum has only just lost its effect. But that means Everit will be here any minute to administer it again and I can only keep him distracted for so long. We don't have much time. I need you to let me explain what's happening."

Chekov sits up, rubbing the numbness out of his wrists, and contemplates this for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he should believe what this man is telling him. Sigmen isn't exactly what Chekov would consider an ally at this point considering the older man's current affiliations. But then again, what other choice does he have? He'll never get out of here without any help. Chekov recalls the times he'd seen a different side of Sigmen; a more human side. The side that was patient with him during training, the side that held back during their sparring. The side he saw in the brief moments just before he was transported away to the _Enterprise_.

"Okay," Chekov finally agrees. "But I have one question I need you to answer before you start."

Sigmen nods expectantly.

"Why did you speak to me in Russian before I left?"

There's no hesitation.

"I needed you to know you could trust me."

Chekov searches Sigmen's expression for any sign of doubt; anything to tell him the man is lying.

But he finds none.

"Okay," Chekov says, "I trust you."

Sigmen nods in understanding, an unspoken thanks to Chekov for putting his faith in him. For believing him.

"I want to help you get out of this place. You, your friend, and everyone else being held here. I can't let this keep happening now that I have the chance to stop it. I've stood by for too long. Wasted too much time living in fear. But not anymore. I want to put an end to this forever."

Chekov takes a moment to collect his thoughts. His heart races at the very thought of escaping this place. The chance to go home. To leave this nightmare behind and be with his family again.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks. "Why now? Why help us?"

This is a question Sigmen is strongly prepared for.

"This isn't right," he says, voice taught with underlying anger. "Imprisoning people, taking away their willpower; their _lives_. All for what? To kill in the name of a twisted, corrupted view of justice? No. All of this is _wrong_. I'm just sorry it took me so long to see this place for what is truly was. But I finally have the chance to put an end to it once and for all. And I'm going to need your help to do it."

Chekov can't help but feel inspired by Sigmen's actions. By his willingness to take a stand for what he believes in. It reminds Chekov of another friend he knows; another leader who is not afraid to fight for what he believes is right.

"I'll help you," Chekov says finally, nodding. "Whatever it takes to make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else ever again."

And it almost looks like Sigmen smiles in that moment.

The older man opens his mouth to speak again, but the shrill and sudden whine of an alarm cuts him off. It's incredibly loud, and Chekov's first instinct is to cover his ears and protect them from the glass-shattering siren projecting throughout the compound.

"What's going on?" He yells loudly.

Sigmen searches the room, looking equally confused about the whole situation.

"I don't know," he says, standing from his chair and turning towards the door, "I don't-"

A computerized intercom announcement freezes Sigmen's movements.

"Emergency alert: assessment protocol four-nineteen, threat level: red. All available security personnel report to briefing center immediately. Repeat: emergency alert."

Chekov hesitantly removes his hands from his ears despite the unbearable volume of the emergency siren.

"What's going on? What does that mean?" He asks, panicked and unsure of how to view their current predicament.

"The compound is under lockdown from an enemy threat. Our location has been compromised."

"Compromised?" Chekov repeats. "Compromised by what?"

"Protocol four-nineteen: A Federation vessel has been detected in the planet's exosphere."

And Chekov swears his heart trips on a beat when he hears that.

"There's a Federation vessel nearby? Do they know what kind? Is it a starship?"

Rationally, Chekov understands that Sigmen doesn't have the information to answer those questions at the moment, but he can't help but let the words spill excitedly from his mouth. A flicker of hope has reignited in his chest.

"I don't know," Sigmen answers, as Chekov suspected he would. "But we need to get out of here now."

"Where will we go?" Chekov asks.

"First we'll find your friend, Hikaru," the older man answers, turning toward the door. "Then we'll have to figure out a way to get in contact with that Federation vessel. Whether or not it's your crew, they can still call for help."

Chekov nods, heart racing wildly in his chest.

"Stay close behind me," Sigmen says as he carefully peels open the door.

Chekov waits with bated breath as the man carefully scans the hallway.

"All clear," he says.

Sigmen slips silently out into the hallway and Chekov quickly follows suit.

There's a terrifying excitement alight within him. There's no doubt that he's scared out of his mind right now, but the thought of leaving this place forever, of being home again? It's that thought that keeps him going despite his fear.

He only hopes that if it _is_ his ship that's come to this place-if it is his family that's come to save the day-that they stay out of danger. He makes a silent vow to himself to do whatever it takes to make sure Sulu and the rest of his crew stay safe.

And with that, he follows Sigmen silently through the compound, headlong into whatever danger may lie ahead.


	10. Chapter 10

Sulu thinks that if the people here don't kill him first, then the silence will certainly drive him insane. He sits against the back wall of his cell and breathes slowly. He can hear his own heart beat loudly with an unnerving clarity.

He looks up, staring across the hall at the empty cell opposite his own. He does his best to quell a sudden rise of internal panic. Sulu doesn't know if Chekov made it off the _Enterprise_ or if he's even still alive. He tries his best not to let that thought cloud his mind, but it's difficult to. The one thing that's kept him going is his determination to get both himself and Chekov out of this place. And if he's lost the one person he can do that with…

No, Sulu chastises himself. Chekov _is_ alive and they _will_ escape this place. He closes his eyes and breaths out, leaning his head against the wall. He'll find a way out of here. Somehow.

Sulu's eyes snap open suddenly as an ear-splitting alarm rings throughout the room. He stands and cautiously makes his way to the wall of glass that seals him in his cell. He cranes his head to look up and down both ends of the hall. He sees no one in the immediate vicinity. Some of the other prisoners have approached the end of their cells too, equally as puzzled.

The familiar sound of a door opening echoes down the hall and Sulu instinctively takes four steps back from the glass. He hears two pairs of footsteps, quiet and vigilant, make their way closer to him. Knowing Everit and his bodyguards are probably on their way to drug him again, Sulu waits in anticipation to make very sure that doesn't happen.

The footsteps grow closer. Fists raised, he slides into a defensive stance; ready to go down fighting if that's what it takes. Suffice to say, he's quite surprised when Chekov's smiling face and curly head of hair pop into view on the other side of the glass. There's another man with him, one Sulu vaguely recognizes as Chekov's training officer.

The man reaches forward to touch the glass. The wall immediately dissolves and Sulu is all but tackled by Chekov as the boy envelops him in a crushing hug. Sulu's able to keep the both of them standing and he returns the embrace gratefully.

"You're alright," he says; mostly out of necessity to convince himself Chekov is indeed alive.

He pulls back from their embrace and quickly catches sight of the white bandages around the ensign's shoulder. Puzzled, he looks up at Chekov.

"Mostly alright," the boy assures him. "Just a scratch."

Sulu's skeptical of that answer, but he's not in a position to question the injury. Right now, they need to focus on escaping. Sulu glances at the man who'd accompanied Chekov, eyeing him up and down cautiously.

"Who's this?" He asks.

"This is Sigmen," Chekov answers. "You can trust him. He's going to help us escape."

Sulu raises an eyebrow skeptically but says nothing. He's not exactly in a very trusting state considering current circumstances, but Chekov seems comfortable enough around the man. Plus, the boy says he can trust him. And that's more than enough for Sulu to do so.

Sulu's expression relaxes and he nods.

"Okay," he agrees. "How do you plan on getting us out of here?"

Sigmen reaches for something in his back pocket and instinctively, Sulu tenses. Sigmen notices and puts his other hand up in surrender to indicate he's not planning anything hostile. Sulu forgets all concern when the man produces a Starfleet communicator.

"I grabbed this earlier. Chekov had it on him when you guys first arrived here. They confiscated it, obviously, but I thought it could help us get in contact with the ship."

"Ship?" Sulu repeats. Next to him, Chekov nods excitedly.

"A federation vessel," he says.

Sulu's heart flutters with a hope that had all but diminished since first waking up here.

"The _Enterprise_?" he asks.

"We don't know," Sigmen answers. "But they can still help us and the others regardless."

Sulu nods in agreement.

"Here," he motions for Sigmen to hand over the comm.

Sulu begins scanning through a variety of Starfleet frequencies, carefully listening for any indication of feedback. Most are silent, and it's a minute or so before he first receives any source of contact.

There's a sudden burst of static followed by a flurry of faraway background voices. His heart jumps into his throat at the sound of them.

"This is Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, requesting emergency assistance. Do you read me?"

Instantly, the voices on the other end die down, and his heart sinks at the notion he lost connection.

 _"Hello, Sulu? Sulu, it's Lieutenant Uhura. Are you there?"_

Chekov jumps excitedly at the very sound of Nyota's voice. Sulu can't help but smile in relief.

"Yes!" He replies happily. "I'm here. God, you don't know how good it is to hear your voice."

 _"Same goes for you,"_ Uhura replies. _"Where are you? Is the Captain with you yet?"_

At this, Sulu pauses and he glances up at Chekov. The boy looks equally as puzzled. Sulu turns his attention back to his comm, hesitation clear in his voice.

"No, he's not. Is…is the Captain here?" He asks.

 _"Yes,"_ Uhura replies. _"He and Spock left here with an away team almost fifteen minutes ago to find you."_

A grave weight settles on Sulu's chest. He watches Sigmen shake his head.

"If your crew is in this facility, we need to find them. They won't survive the reinforcements alone."

Sulu curses internally. They'll need to find the away team, but they still need to rescue the other prisoners here and get them out. He takes a moment to think; a plan slowly coming to fruition in his mind.

"Uhura can you patch me through to the transporter room?"

 _"Yes. Patching you through now."_

There's a pause as the communication lines convene.

 _"Scotty,"_ Uhura says. _"We're in contact with Sulu down below."_

 _"Aye?"_ Scotty's voice rings clear through the comm. _"Sulu, are you alright lad? Is Chekov there with you?"_

"Yes, we're both fine." Sulu answers, very aware of how pressed for time they are. "But listen, we have roughly two dozen people down here to move and not a lot of time to do it. Can you beam them all aboard the ship?"

 _"Can I beam them all aboard the ship?"_ Scotty repeats, sounding rather insulted. _"Course I can do that; who do you think you're talking to here?"_

There's a pause. Sulu can hear Scotty configuring the transporter settings and frequencies.

 _"Ah, though we may actually have a problem,"_ the man admits begrudgingly.

Sulu's hand tightens around the comm.

"What's wrong?"

 _"It looks like there's some kind of energy interference blocking any incoming transporter signals. I cannae get a lock on any signal inside the facility. Do you think you can move them outside?"_

Sulu glances up at Sigmen who nods his head in confirmation.

"Yes," Sulu answers. "But you'll have to give us some time. There's a lot of people to move."

 _"Aye," Scotty agrees. "Be careful."_

"We will. Be ready on my signal."

Sulu snaps the comm shut and immediately turns to Sigmen.

"You know this place better than either of us. What's the safest way out of here?"

Sigmen points down the far end of the corridor.

"Down there and out the last door on the right. It'll lead into a security corridor. There's an exit to the outside at the very end."

Sulu nods. Good. The sooner they go unnoticed, the better. He analyzes the room; gazing up and down the rows of cells. It will take too much time to free each person individually.

"Anyway we can get all these open at once?" He asks.

"I can override the security lock," Sigmen replies. "But it'll send up a red flag the second I do. We'll only have a few minutes before security gets here."

"Then we'll have to be quick," Sulu asserts. "Once we get everyone aboard the ship, we double back to find Kirk and the away team."

"How long until security discovers they're here?" Chekov asks.

"There's no telling," Sigmen says. "All personnel should be in the briefing room preparing to lockdown the facility. But your crew has already been here longer than we even knew. They may have already been discovered; though security most likely would have broadcast a warning to the rest of the base if they had been. Best case scenario: they last long enough for us to find them first."

Chekov nods in acknowledgment of the severity their predicament entails. Sulu places his hand on the boy's shoulder; silently reassuring his friend that they _will_ get through this. They will find a way just like they always have.

"Come on," Sulu says. "Let's get these people out of here."

Sigmen hustles to the front entrance of the room and stands by the main keypad on the wall. Sulu nods and Sigmen quickly enters in a string of commands onto the pad. Instantly, every cell entrance collapses and Sulu stands in the center of the hall in order to direct the newly freed prisoners.

"Listen, everyone!" He shouts. "My name is Hikaru Sulu. I'm a Lieutenant of the USS _Enterprise_ of the United Federation of Planets. There's currently a ship orbiting this planet that will beam all of you aboard once we are clear of the interference this facility is causing. But that means we need to exit the building as quickly as possible!"

And on cue, a squealing alarm blares to life and a blinding red light frantically flashes throughout the room.

Sulu counts twenty-two confused and concerned faces all looking to him for guidance. He glances back to Sigmen.

"We have to go," Sigmen says. "Now."

"All of you, follow me," Sulu orders. He turns and tails behind Sigmen and Chekov as they make their way towards the far end of the hall. Sulu throws a look over his shoulder every few seconds to be sure the others are doing okay.

They all hurry along; 25 of them sneaking soundlessly through the facility and towards the exit. When they reach the entrance to the security corridor, Sigmen motions for them all to stop. Wordlessly, he unholsters the phaser at his side and lightly pushes the door open. He jumps through, gun drawn.

After a few breathless seconds, Sigmen gives a shout of "clear" and Sulu motions for the rest of the group to hustle through the door and toward the exit. Sulu retrieves his comm and flips it open.

"You almost ready up there, Scotty?"

 _"Aye, lad,"_ Scotty replies. _"Standing by for your signal."_

The group reaches the door and Sigmen flings it open without hesitation. Instantly, a flood of sunlight pours over them and Sulu breathes in a breath of air so sweet and so refreshing, he almost sighs as he exhales. His bare skin greatly welcomes the sun's warmth as he crosses the threshold onto the planet's grassy surface. Thick vegetation and forests of trees surround the facility at every angle. He'd almost admired the beauty of it all if he weren't aware of all the horrors that took place here.

Sulu turns and ushers the last of the prisoners out the exit. When the last one arrives, he raises his comm.

 _"Now, Scotty."_

" _Energizing!"_

Within seconds, brilliant gold light begins encircling the twenty-two prisoners. Some look frightened, but most look happy; relieved that someone finally came to their rescue.

The closest person to Sulu, a woman close to his own age, smiles at him.

"Thank you," she says.

Sulu nods, returning the smile in earnest. Then the woman is gone, beamed away to the _Enterprise_ with the others.

 _"Alright, lads,"_ Scotty says. _"Now for you."_

"No, not yet," Sulu says. "We need to find Kirk and the away team. They're still inside."

Then he thinks for a moment, glancing at Chekov and Sigmen.

"Chekov, you beam up. Sigmen and I will find Kirk and Spock."

Chekov immediately jumps to disagree the second that command leaves Sulu's mouth.

"Absolutely not," he says. "We find them together. I'm not leaving."

Sulu sighs. They don't have any time to argue; he'll just have to accept it for now. He addresses Scotty again.

"We'll let you know when we find the away team. Until then, standby for beam up. We don't have a lot of time left now that security is looking for us."

 _"Roger that, Mister Sulu,"_ Scotty replies.

Sigmen opens the exit door and motions for Sulu and Chekov to follow.

"We have to hurry," he says. "Let's hope the reinforcements haven't located your crew yet."

"Is there another path we can take besides the way we came?" Sulu asks. "I don't doubt security will already be scouring the cells looking for us."

Sigmen pauses to think for a moment, mentally mapping the facility out in his head. After a few seconds, he nods.

"Follow me. I know a way."

Sulu glances at Chekov.

"Almost there," he says, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Chekov gives a small smile and nods.

"Almost there," he repeats.

They follow in line behind Sigmen, careful not to make any excess noise that could give away their position. They take an alternate route out of the security corridor in order to search for the away team without being caught.

They're nearing the outer center of the facility when Sulu hears a distant exchange of phaser shots and familiar voices echoing the halls. Excitedly, he jogs ahead through the next corridor.

"Sulu, what's wrong?" Chekov calls as he and Sigmen quicken their pace to catch up.

"I think we found them," Sulu says. "I think they're-"

"Sulu!" Chekov screams.

There's the sudden sound of metal gliding against metal and Sulu turns around just in time to watch a door slide down and seal off the connecting entrance between both corridors. He runs toward it and throws his weight against it uselessly.

"Chekov!" He calls, pounding wildly on the metal. "Chekov!"

He can hear voices from the other side, muffled and barely audible through the thick door.

"Stay there!" He orders, praying that they can understand what he's saying. "I'll find another way around!"

The sound of nearing footfalls causes him to search frantically for a place to hide. Weaponless, he stands little chance against heavily-armed guards. He can only hope they pass by here without spotting him.

As the footsteps grow nearer, he ducks around the nearest corner and presses his body against the wall tightly. His heart beats wildly in his chest. He places his palms against the wall, trying to make himself as flat and unnoticeable as possible.

"Come on Spock! This way!"

Sulu blinks once in recognition of that voice and then peels himself off the wall. He hears running; the rapid pounding of feet on metal drawing closer and closer. He peers around the corner ever so slowly.

A flash of yellow whips around the corner and he watches a similar spot of blue and several red ones follow suit.

"Captain!" Sulu shouts.

Kirk glances up and immediately, his expression is filled with a look of utmost relief. Unfortunately, it's short-lived.

"Sulu!" The captain yells. "Get down!"

Sulu doesn't hesitate and drops instantly. He narrowly ducks enemy fire and Kirk returns the shot, landing a hit on one of the facility's security guards. Two more round the corner and Spock, having stopped to take aim with his weapon, stuns both of them easily.

Sulu feels someone grab both his shoulders and help lift him into a standing positon.

"Sulu," Kirks says, face marred by a deep purple bruise. He pulls him into a tight hug. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," Sulu replies, quickly returning the embrace. "But we need to find Chekov. We got separated just before we found you."

Kirk nods, quickly falling into step with their new plan of action.

"Let's hurry," he says. "More security is on the way."

"Follow me," Sulu instructs. "We need to find a way back around to the cells."

He then takes off down the hall to his left, the away team right on his heels. He takes a deep breath in, heart racing and anxiety fervently clawing at him from within.

 _Almost there,_ he repeats to himself as he runs.

 _Almost there._

* * *

Chekov watches as Sulu quickly jogs ahead into the next corridor.

"Sulu, what's wrong?" He calls. Vaguely, Chekov can hear the far-off sounds of gunfire.

"I think we found them," Sulu says. "I think they're-"

Chekov is yelling out for his friend the second Sigmen latches onto his shirt and pulls him backward as a metal door slices down through the air. There's a resounding echo as the door crashes into the floor and he stumbles to regain his footing. Solid, thick steel now exists where Chekov was standing only seconds before.

Sigmen's voice asking him if he's alright does not register with him. He can only focus on the persistent sound of Sulu pounding on the door that now separates the two of them.

"Sulu, can you hear me?" Chekov calls frantically. He feels for a button or release switch; anything that can allow him to open the door.

"It's no use," Sigmen says. "He won't be able to hear us. We need to get out of here now."

"I think _not_."

Chekov feels all the blood drain from his face at the sound of that voice.

He turns, his hands defensively balled into fists. Doctor Everit stands not ten feet from him and Sigmen, flanked by five security guards with guns trained right on them.

"I'm not happy, Pavel," Everit says evenly. "Not happy at all."

Chekov doesn't even have a chance to run as one of the guards swings with the back of his gun and catches him right on the side of his head. He crumbles to the ground instantly. Chekov can hear a struggle ensue as the security detail most likely attempts to subdue Sigmen as well.

As darkness overtakes his vision, Chekov only hopes Sulu was able to find Kirk and the away team. That he'll find a way out of here.

The last thing he hears is Sigmen hitting the floor.

* * *

 **Ah** ** _finally_** **uploaded this chapter. I've really been dragging my feet on this one guys, sorry about that. BUT it's mainly because we are nearing the end of this story; probably three more chapters left. Wrapping up a story has always been my Achilles Heel because I really like to make it good, so I'll be working hard to make sure that stays true for this story as well. Anyway, after this I've got some *hopefully* exciting stuff to put up. As always, if you liked the chapter, be sure to leave a review. I hope you all have a wonderful evening.**


	11. Chapter 11

Kirk nearly trips on the back of Sulu's heels three separate times. He's preoccupied trying to keep an eye out for anymore guards while still sprinting fervently through the facility to find his lost crew member.

Sulu takes them around a series of sharp corners as they move deeper and deeper into the base. Kirk fires off one shot at a guard that waits for them at one corridor's end. Spock runs beside him as they continue forward.

As they move, Kirk runs through a list of contingency plans in his mind. The away team has long surpassed their twenty-minute time constraint and they still haven't found Chekov. Kirk isn't even sure where they're going; he only knows Sulu is now the best chance they have of finding the young ensign.

Kirk can't really assess all the physical damage as they sprint across the building, but Sulu has a nasty cut on his left cheek and there are traces of dried blood on the back of his head. He imagines that's far from the limits of what his helmsman has endured in this place. A swell of anger boils inside him at thought of anyone harming his crew. _No one_ hurts his family.

He's suddenly so overcome with rage that he almost misses Sulu's warning as they all fly around another corner.

"Get down!"

Sulu twists around and shoves Kirk back. The following moments happen in rapid succession; Kirk with barely enough time to pick himself up off the floor.

A flurry of shots. A scream. Return fire. Silence.

Dazed from hitting the ground so forcefully, Kirk takes a moment to reevaluate his situation. Three more men are unconscious at the end of the corridor. The walls are littered with scorch marks from the brief, but damaging, battle. He takes count of his away team and is more than relieved to find them all alive. Spock is inching toward the end of the hall, carefully securing their cover from any other aggravators.

Kirk goes to push himself up when, to his left, there's a mumbled groan. He spins around and a sharp exhale escapes him. Sulu, lying prone on the ground where he fell, has a deep wound on the back of his right leg. Blood pools slowly beneath the gash in his calf. Kirk runs forward and carefully turns Sulu over; the simple action eliciting a painful moan from the injured helmsman.

"Come on," Kirk says, taking Sulu's left arm over his shoulder. "We have to get you out of here."

"Captain," Spock calls, "the path is clear. But I suggest we move quickly. Reinforcements cannot be far behind."

Kirk pushes himself and Sulu upward, staggering slightly as they both stand.

"Sulu's been hit," Kirk replies. "He needs help."

Spock quickly jogs back over and surveys the wound; taking a few seconds to consider their options.

"He'll need medical attention," he confirms. "I suggest the away team take Lieutenant Sulu and beam back aboard the _Enterprise._ "

"No!" Sulu shouts. "We need to find Chekov first! I'm not leaving until we have him."

"Hikaru, you can barely walk," Kirk says.

"So you and Spock will just go on without any backup in a place crawling with who knows how many reinforcements? No! I'm coming with you!"

Kirk's eyes instinctively dart to the corridor's end in search of any incoming guards. They're running out of time. They need to make a decision.

"Listen to me," he instructs forcefully. "You're no good to Chekov bleeding out on the floor. The best thing you can do now is get yourself back aboard the ship and let us find him. We don't have time to argue."

Kirk waits exactly two seconds for Sulu to agree with him before he executively decides his friend doesn't have a choice. Then he places Sulu's arm over the shoulder of another crewmember from the away team.

"We passed an exit a couple hundred feet back," Kirk tells the redshirt. "The four of you, get outside and then beam aboard. Make sure Lieutenant Sulu gets to medbay immediately."

"Yes, sir," the man replies.

Before they all part ways, Sulu places his free hand on Kirk's shoulder and grips it tightly.

"Down this hall until you can't go any farther. You'll make a right and head for the farthest door on the left."

Kirk nods.

"We'll find him," he promises. Sulu nods back, unwavering faith in his captain clear.

And with that their group splits; Sulu heading back to the _Enterprise_ and Kirk deeper into the facility to finally find and rescue their missing friend.

* * *

 _Chekov sits at his desk flipping through a stellar cartography book; trying in vain to absorb any of the information on its pages. He hasn't been able to focus for the past few hours. When the council made the announcement that everyone would receive their ship assignments later in the evening, well, Chekov knew he wasn't going to get anything productive done from that point onward._

 _His head snaps up when he hears the door slide open. Sulu bolts in frantically, two envelopes clutched tightly in his hand. Chekov immediately scrambles from his chair and stands, eyeing both envelopes._

 _"_ _Are those?"_

 _"_ _Just picked them up," Sulu pants. "Ran all the way back here."_

 _Sulu thrusts one of the envelopes toward Chekov, hand shaking ever so slightly. Chekov slowly reaches out to grab it. They both stand there for a moment, nervously reveling in silent anticipation. Chekov traces over his name; bold lettering printed clearly on the envelope's front side._

 _"_ _One then the other, or both at the same time?" Sulu asks._

 _Chekov thinks for a moment._

 _"_ _Same time," he answers._

 _Sulu nods in agreement._

 _"_ _Okay," he says. "Count of three."_

 _Chekov turns the envelope over._

 _"_ _One...two…three!"_

 _Both boys tear into their envelopes, careful not to damage any of the contents within. Sulu tosses his empty envelope over his shoulder while Chekov's simply falls from his hands as he nervously fumbles to open the folded paper between his fingers._

 _They both manage to open their letters simultaneously. Chekov's heart leaps into his throat and he quickly scans the document. He skips over the formal introduction and congratulations. He can read that later. His eyes scan the paper frantically, racing back and forth; desperately searching…_

 _And then he spots it. Big, bolded letters right at the bottom of the page._

 ** _Enterprise._**

 _He feels like he could hit the ceiling if he tried to jump high enough. The Enterprise! He can't believe it! He thought it was a long-shot applying for a position aboard that ship! He scans a few lines further to see what his assignment is and he damn near faints on the spot when he reads the words_ Alpha Navigator. _He rereads it five or six times before the reality finally sinks in. Head navigator on the fleet's newest starship! He must be dreaming._

 _"_ _Oh my god!"_

 _Chekov glances up upon hearing Sulu's sudden yell of surprise. He looks at his friend expectantly._

 _"_ _Good news?"_

 _"_ _Alpha Helmsman on the USS Enterprise! They want me piloting the ship's maiden voyage!"_

 _Chekov's face lights up._

 _"_ _Enterpris_ _e_ _!" He repeats. "Sulu, we will be on the same ship together!"_

 _"_ _Are you kidding?" Sulu asks, shocked._

 _"_ _Alpha Navigator," Chekov excitedly tells him._

 _The newly-appointed pilot gives an elated shout of joy and both boys embrace._

 _"_ _This is the best day of my life," Chekov says._

 _Sulu smiles._

 _"_ _Chekov and Sulu," he says, throwing a hand upward, pointing out beyond the ceiling and the sky to the stars. "The greatest team in history to helm the greatest ship in existence."_

 _Chekov mimics Sulu's dramatic stance and voice._

 _"_ _Leading humankind onward through the stars and into the future!"_

 _Sulu laughs and Chekov thinks to himself:_ No doubt at all, _this_ is the best day of my life.

* * *

The first thing Chekov realizes when he wakes up is that he's on the floor staring up at the ceiling.

The second thing he realizes is that the right side of his head is throbbing intensely. He reaches up and brushes over the tender skin; heat emanating from the thin cut leaking blood down the side of his face.

The third thing he realizes is that he is not alone. Someone places a firm, but gentle hand on his back; helping to ease him into a sitting position.

His head is swimming as he moves, and he hears a garbled voice becoming clearer through the constant ringing in his ears.

"Pavel, are you alright?"

Chekov glances up to his right and sees Sigmen staring back at him; expression clear with concern.

"I'm-"

But a wave of dizziness washes over him and he struggles to keep his balance. Sigmen keeps him from falling backward and helps him sit back against the cool metal of an adjourning wall.

"How noble," a familiar voice speaks. Chekov doesn't have to look up to know who that voice belongs to, but does so anyway.

"Really, Sigmen, there's no use in wasting your energy," Everit says. "It would have been better spent creating a better escape strategy, I think. But, alas, here you are."

Chekov watches Sigmen stiffen. He silently begs the older man not to do anything impulsive.

Everit laughs.

"Still as resilient as ever though," he says. "Tell me, what was it that made you want to betray me? What changed?"

Sigmen doesn't answer. He only stares, eyes full of a burning hatred ignited long ago.

"I know what it was. It was young Pavel here, wasn't it? Somehow he bent something inside you, didn't he? Found in you the sympathy that had long since retreated within."

He pauses and waits for a response again, but does not receive one. Chekov can tell Everit knows Sigmen won't dignify his interrogation with a response. This one-sided conversation is merely a taunt.

"What I can't understand, though, is why he-of all people-was the one who changed your mind. We've had plenty of young recruits in this place. Some who didn't even last a day. But somehow, _this_ boy was the exception."

Chekov watches Everit signal two of his security guards and then nod toward Sigmen.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now," he continues. "I suspect it's just that my pride is still stinging from your betrayal. Nevertheless, you've made your decision, and I must accept it."

The two guards proceed to beat Sigmen to the ground while Chekov instinctively launches himself upward to stop them. A second bout of vertigo crashes over him and the other two men from the security detail hold him back. He watches helplessly as Sigmen takes the brunt of every attack.

One lands a kick to his abdomen.

"Leave him alone!" Chekov shouts.

The other sends a punch into his face.

"Stop!"

They both land a ferocious kick to his stomach.

"Please!"

One hits his face again and blood spills from Sigmen's nose. Chekov feels bile rise in the back of his throat as his stomach churns at the sight. Overcome with desperation, he feels tears swell in his eyes.

"Please stop!"

They continue to beat Sigmen mercilessly until his head lolls to the side and his eyes wane in a struggle to stay open.

One of the men raises his fist for what Chekov knows will undoubtedly be the finishing blow.

"You're going to kill him! Please, stop!" He begs. Tears roll down his cheeks as he struggles in vain to free himself.

Everit raises a single hand, his eyes locked with Chekov's. Both men immediately end their attack and let Sigmen fall to his knees.

"You know, I think I finally understand it, Sigmen," Everit says. "Why Pavel was the one who changed your mind. You saw yourself in him, didn't you? Morally righteous and a heart this universe is far too undeserving of."

Sigmen is unresponsive, but Everit doesn't take heed of it.

"I always knew your empathy would be your downfall."

He looks back at Chekov.

"Did he tell you that he was like you once? Brought here because we knew he could further our cause. But days and weeks of isolation; knowing that no one is out there who loves you? Knowing nobody is coming to your rescue? You give in. And Sigmen did just that. He became my second hand. A perfect solider if there ever was one."

"And yet, you still protest his punishment. Why do you want me to spare him? Is he not exactly the same person who brought you here? Took you from your home and your family? How are he and I any different, Pavel? Tell me that. Why do you think he's worthy of saving even when you know about all the terrible things he's done?"

Chekov takes a moment to consider that. He tries to imagine himself in Sigmen's place; years of imprisonment here, unable to think for himself. Unwillingly following orders, carrying out actions that weren't of his own doing. Receiving daily doses of the serum to keep him obedient until he eventually didn't need it. Hope too broken, faith too damaged; he was finally submissive enough to follow every order Everit had without influence. How long had Sigmen lived with that guilt? How heavy did the burdens of what he was forced to do weigh on him?

 _And despite all that_ , Chekov thinks, _he still chose to help me_. Still tried to do what was right, even if it meant risking his life in the process.

Almost as if he can hear Chekov's thoughts, Sigmen looks up; blood dripping down off his chin and face marred with black and blue. Chekov does not answer Everit. He looks only at Sigmen.

"You are not what they made you," he tells him. "You are who you choose to be."

And there's a sense of peace that Chekov sees in Sigmen's expression. Something there that tells him that perhaps one day, some day, he might forgive himself; might let the burden of what he was forced to do finally lift from his shoulders.

"Touching," Everit cuts in, voice filled with faux sympathy, "but so naïve."

The doctor approaches Chekov slowly.

"Perhaps it's your youth that corrupts your perspective so badly. Hope is so very different when one is young. Even now you still probably believe that rescuing the others was worthwhile. Did you really think freeing them would end us? The thing about ideals, Pavel, is that they cannot be destroyed. As long as there is just one person out there willing to carry on that belief, the ideal thrives. Coursing and flowing across centuries, surpassing mortality and time. This place was only ever that: a place. A location. The existence of our organization does not hinge on this facility's existence, nor you or any of the others' participation. You've caused a temporary setback. But that's all it will ever be. We will always find more soldiers to mold."

"I don't like being fooled, Pavel. I don't enjoy being outmaneuvered. It doesn't suit me. And because of that, I was asking myself: what could I do to return the favor? What could I do to make sure you suffer for the insubordination you've thrust upon my organization and even worse, one of my most trusted advisors?"

"I could take you with us when we move on from this planet. Make sure you never make a decision for yourself ever again. Make you kill and destroy until you can't even recognize who you are anymore. But then I thought, no, that won't do. I would fool myself to believe you were anything less than one of the strongest-willed people I've ever had the unfortunate experience of knowing. I'll give you that, Pavel. You aren't so easily broken. So taking you away from here wouldn't do what I truly want. It wouldn't destroy you the way I intend. Because as long as your crew escapes here; as long as _you_ are the only one who pays for what's been done, it will never be enough to break you."

The guard on Sigmen's right presses against his earpiece as he receives a relay on intel from fellow security details.

"Sir," he addresses Everit, "we've been informed that Lieutenant Sulu has been transported back aboard the ship."

Everit turns back to Chekov.

"I know where your weakness lies. Not in self-security but in loyalty for those you care for. So I thought to myself: what would the tipping point be? The one thing you can't save yourself from? What could I make you do so that you'll never forget this moment?"

Everit retrieves a vile filled with serum from his coat pocket. Chekov struggles desperately to move away, but the two men at his sides hold him securely as Everit reaches forward and injects the vial into the side of his neck. Chekov feels the adrenaline hit him instantly and he inhales sharply. The pain writhes through him and his body strains against the serum as it courses into his veins.

Everit takes Chekov's chin in his hand and forces his gaze upward. He retrieves a gun from the man on Chekov's left.

"You're going to find your friend Hikaru aboard your ship. And when you do, you're going to take this gun, you're going to aim directly for his heart, and you're going to shoot him."

"And as he lays dying because you thought you and your Federation's antiquated morals were enough to overcome us and our mission, I want you to know that it will be _your_ fault. _You_ will be the reason he dies today. I want you to remember that; remember it every minute of every hour for the entire rest of your life. And know that I will be out there somewhere, continuing on the work that you tried in vain to put an end to. I will make sure this costs you _everything_ , Pavel. Never forget your _insignificance_ is this world. You will never be anything more than a lost little boy who wasn't strong enough to protect the people he loves."

Everit roughly shoves Chekov's face away and then straightens up.

"Let him go," Everit orders.

Both men obey and release Chekov's arms.

"You," the doctor addresses the security guard closest to Sigmen. "Take him to the transportation bay. I want him sent aboard the ship immediately."

The guard nods and drags Chekov forward, pushing him toward the exit.

As the guard passes by Everit, however, he's stopped when the older man latches onto his arm. The doctor whispers loud enough for only him to hear.

"Follow him onto that ship. And when he finishes off the Lieutenant, kill him. We can't have any more information available to the Federation council once we abandon this facility. Do _not_ fail me."

"Understood, sir," the guard confirms. He then exits the cell to follow behind Chekov.

Everit turns back to Sigmen.

"I do wish we had more time, but I'm afraid I must be going. Don't be too hard on yourself. You never had a chance to save that boy, no matter how much you believed you did."

Everit then addresses the guard beside him.

"Start the detonation sequence. We don't have much time before aid from Starfleet arrives. I don't want anything left of this place once we're gone."

And with that, he and the remaining security detail exit the cell; sealing it closed as they go.

"You could have done greater things, Sigmen," Everit stops and looks over his shoulder. "We could have saved this universe together. But you've made your choice. And now you'll die with it."

Then they go, leaving Sigmen bleeding, broken, and above all else: alone.

* * *

 **We're rounding the final stretch on this story! I think I'll be aiming for 13, maybe 14 chapters. It all depends on how I decide to break up the next chapter, or really more specifically: how much pain I decide to throw at you guys in one update. I, uh, I'm not gonna promise anything, but I'll just let you know now it's not going to be sunshine and roses. I apologize in advance. I was going to try and split the pain between this chapter and the next, but this one was already long enough without it. Anyway, hopefully the next update will be out soon. Until then, if you liked the chapter, leave a review! And as always, I hope you all have a wonderful evening.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone! Finally managed to piece this chapter together and edit the entire fourteen pages it contained. It's by far the longest update in this story, but I think that part of the reason why may have been some kind of subconscious urge within me to give you guys as fulfilling a chapter as possible to make up for the ending I'm unfortunately going to have to leave you on. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. As always, please leave a review if you like the update. I hope you guys all have a wonderful evening!**

* * *

A voice blasting to life over the loudspeaker system has Kirk and Spock diving for cover the moment they hear it. Fearing they've been found, they stay hidden and listen to the broadcast.

 _"_ _Detonation sequence: active. Three minutes until self-destruct."_

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Kirk whispers.

He quickly surveys the corridor to be sure no more guards have arrived. Three minutes? Fate was just acting petty now.

"Captain, we must move quickly," Spock says.

"You read my mind," Kirk answers, promptly exiting their cover. He takes the lead and keeps his phaser at eye level.

When they finally reach the entrance Sulu had described to them, Kirk and Spock both move to either side of the door. Kirk leans in closer, listening for any kind of noise from the other side. He hears none and proceeds to nod once at Spock. The first officer steps forward, kicking the door inward and then charging into the room, phaser drawn.

Kirk files in directly behind him and quickly scans the immediate area for any threats. The room is enormous; large cells lining both sides of a long corridor. The entrance they've arrived through puts them halfway between the stretch of cells, so Kirk motions for Spock to search the right side while he takes the left.

Each cell is opened, but Kirk quickly comes to the realization that none of them are filled.

"Captain!" Spock calls.

Kirk turns and quickly runs the distance back to his first officer. Spock is stood in front of the only closed cell; an unconscious man clearly trapped with a thick wall of glass sealing him inside.

 _"_ _Two minutes to detonation._ "

"We can't leave him," Kirk says.

Spock considers this for only a moment before lifting his phaser and aiming at one of the glass's weaker structure points. He fires twice at the lower left corner and the wall immediately shatters into a thousand minuscule shards.

The man inside stirs; glancing up in surprise when he notices both officers. Kirk sees the man closely analyze his uniform, as well as the Starfleet insignia on his chest. The man struggles to stand at first, but he manages to balance himself and walk to meet Kirk and Spock outside the cell.

"I'm Sigmen. You're Pavel's crew, aren't you?" The man asks.

"We are," Kirk nods. "Do you have any idea where we can find him?"

Sigmen is taken aback; expression thoroughly puzzled.

"I thought-" He stops mid-sentence, realization dawning on his face

"Oh my god, you don't know yet," the man breathes. "Listen to me, get back aboard your ship now. Everit administered the serum again and ordered Pavel to kill Hikaru."

Kirk feels like someone has physically punched him straight through the chest.

" _What?"_

"You're running out of time. He won't be able to stop himself if you don't find him first! You need to go now!"

Kirk, suddenly overwrought with a new wave of panic, glances hurriedly at Spock.

"I'll inform the crew," Spock says, already turning to go. "I'll issue an immediate emergency lockdown aboard the ship until we locate Ensign Chekov."

Kirk nods, pivoting on a heel to follow after his first officer. He pulls up short when he doesn't hear the sound of Sigmen's footsteps behind him. Kirk turns to see him standing a few feet back, staring at the ground in intense contemplation.

"Come on!" Kirk calls. "We need to leave now!"

The man looks up and, unbelievably, shakes his head.

"There's something I have to do."

Kirk gapes at him incredulously.

"Are you nuts? This place is coming down any second!"

 _"_ _One minute to detonation."_

"I can't let Everit leave here. As long as he's still alive to rebuild this organization, this won't ever end."

"There's no time! You're going to die if you stay here!" Kirk very nearly pleads.

"This isn't up to you!" Sigmen yells back. "Now, go!"

Kirk can't help but feel a tug at his conscience; a force compelling him to physically make Sigmen evacuate the facility, especially when any other option means certain death. But he's clearly made up his mind, and right now, Kirk is needed elsewhere.

He nods, reluctantly acknowledging the man's choice, and then tosses his phaser across the room to him. Sigmen catches it, confusion writ across his face.

"Take it," Kirk tells him, knowing it's all he can really do to help.

With that, he turns to leave. However, Kirk only makes it a few steps forward before Sigmen stops and yells out to him.

"Captain!" he calls.

Kirk looks back.

"When you find Pavel...please tell him I said thank you. For everything."

Kirk can't even begin to understand the depth of what that final request might mean; but he's going to do everything in his power to honor it.

"I will," Kirk promises.

Sigmen offers a grateful nod before he takes off running. He disappears through the room's exit and then hurries across the facility without caution. Now that most everyone is gone, no one is left to stop him. Sigmen sprints down a twisting corridor towards the transportation bay entrance.

 _"_ _30 seconds until detonation."_

He slams the door and flings it open, phaser drawn. There's one escape shuttle left and only three people trying to board it. Sigmen fires first at the small shuttle; effectively damaging it beyond any practical use. He then shoots both guards before advancing towards the third man, latching on to the back of his white lab coat and throwing him to the ground.

Everit hits the floor hard, groaning as he rolls over onto his stomach. Sigmen lifts his phaser once more and aims to end this once and for all.

 _"_ _20 seconds to detonation."_

Hearing that, he hesitates. There's no time for means of escape now, why should he make any more blood for his hands during these last few seconds of his life? He lowers his weapon. Sigmen decides Everit's life is not his to take, no matter how much pain he's caused him. When this place goes, Everit will go down with it. And Sigmen knows that won't ever fix or heal everything that's been done here, but perhaps it can begin to atone for it: by ensuring nothing like this ever happens again.

 _"_ _15 seconds to detonation."_

Sigmen isn't afraid to die. Fear of his own mortality is something he lost long ago, back when he'd already forgotten all the things that made him who he was. But if he does have just one regret, it's that he wishes he had more time to help Pavel. He silently prays that the boy's crew will find him in time. Sigmen had briefly considered Everit's question to him: why was Pavel the one to make him finally do the right thing? Of course, it was just as the doctor said: Sigmen _had_ seen himself in Pavel that day they brought him here. Young, afraid, and desperately in need of just one person to reach out a hand and tell him it's all going to be okay. Sigmen never got that, but he made damn sure Pavel did.

 _"_ _10 seconds to detonation"_

Sigmen glances at Everit. The man's glasses are shattered and there's a line of blood slowly trailing from his nose. Sigmen spares no pity, even as Everit tries and fails to push himself up. The doctor sighs, resigned to his fate. He looks up.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Sigmen."

 _"_ _5 seconds to detonation."_

"I believe I'll consider _that_ my life's greatest achievement," Sigmen answers. He tosses the phaser away and listens to the last seconds of his life broadcast over the intercom.

 _"_ _Three."_

 _"_ _Two."_

 _"_ _One."_

Sigmen shuts his eyes.

* * *

Sulu stifles a painful groan as McCoy mends the three-inch gash on his leg. He rests on his stomach, arms bunched under his chin.

"Almost done," McCoy assures him.

Sulu hears the soft hum of the protoplaser gradually knitting his skin back together. The residual sensation is faint; like a couple dozen microscopic needles lightly pricking his skin. The real pain comes as the damaged nerves slowly regenerate without the influence of anesthetic. Sulu had passed up the option for it; the sooner he was healed the sooner he could help.

"You gave us a real scare for a while there," McCoy comments. Sulu can't see the doctor's face, but he can hear the concern in his voice.

"We're not out of the woods yet," Sulu replies. He knows McCoy understands his unspoken words: this isn't over until Chekov is back home and safe. There's a pause and Sulu shifts uncomfortably through another wave of pain.

"They'll get him back," McCoy says.

Sulu swallows roughly against the lump in his throat.

"I know."

Neither man speaks after that. McCoy finishes repairing the wound in silence. He wraps a few white bandages around the scar and then stands.

"You'll need to stay off that leg for a little bit. Give it some more time to heal."

Sulu rolls over onto his back and sits up.

"Kirk and Spock are still down there. There has to be something I can do to help."

McCoy crosses the room to grab his communicator. The small device beeps rhythmically to alert the doctor someone is trying to contact him.

"The best thing you can do right now is rest. You'll damage that leg five ways to Friday if you try and strain it anymore."

McCoy answers his comm and Sulu sighs, absentmindedly running a hand over the soft gauze around his calf.

"McCoy here." There's a short pause.

"Yes." Another pause.

"What happened?" Sulu can barely hear the frantic voice on the other line.

"You mean to tell me no one saw _anything?_ "

McCoy gruffly cuts off whatever explanation he's being offered.

"Damn it, just don't do anything. I'll be right there."

The tone in his voice does not bode well.

"What's wrong?" Sulu asks.

"Someone found a lab technician unconscious on B deck. I gotta get down there. You gonna be okay here?"

"I'll be fine," Sulu answers.

McCoy nods once and quickly gathers up a few supplies in a pack.

"Stay off that leg, Sulu. I mean it," he orders.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sulu says.

McCoy shoulders his pack and then goes. Sulu releases a deep exhale and falls back against his bed pillow, defeated. He glances around the room, trying to find anything to take his frantic mind off of the rescue mission still underway on the planet below. Medbay is quite empty; he's the only patient residing in this wing and there are just two nurses milling about and fulfilling their duties.

He glances down at his leg, annoyed. He resents feeling this helpless. There has to be _something_ he can do beside sit here.

Sulu decides maybe it wouldn't hurt to test out the strength of his leg for a minute or two; he won't even stay on it that long. He takes a deep breath in and swings both legs over the edge of his bed; allowing them to dangle a couple inches above the ground for a few seconds. He first lets the foot of his uninjured leg touch the floor, and then follows it carefully with the next one. Immediately, a flare of pain shoots up his leg and he stumbles slightly.

He glances up at the nurses to see if they noticed and is relieved to see them still turned around. Sulu sucks another breath in and takes one step forward. He winces at another wave of pain, but it quickly subsides. After a few steps, he's able to walk pretty well despite the extent of the injury he's received.

He's just considering a short walk to the next wing when, from behind, he hears the doors to medbay slide together. Sulu turns around and, sure enough, sees that the entrance is sealed shut. He hears the nurses' shout of surprise. Slowly, an uneasy feeling builds in Sulu's chest. He recalls why McCoy was called away from medbay; something about an unconscious crewmember on a lower deck. Sulu has to quell the panic that rises inside him when he tries to come up with a reason for how that happened. Certainly, he's just being paranoid. But, despite telling himself that, he can't quite dispel the suspicion now.

Sulu hears movement to his right; the faintest sound of a scuffing footstep. Gripping the bedframe to steady himself, he turns toward it. What his gaze meets causes him to freeze instantly.

Chekov stands across the room, silently staring down the injured pilot. He looks far worse than when Sulu last saw him; there's a purple bruise stretching up the right side of his face and a faint trail of blood coursing down his cheek. And Sulu can tell right away something is wrong. His posture is too rigid; too formal. Sulu has no doubt what is to blame.

"Chekov," he says warily, lifting his hands in surrender. Taking a cautious step back, he spares a quick glance over his shoulder and catches sight of the two nurses still in medbay.

"Go!" He orders. Both hesitate at first, but quickly they realize the danger they're in if they stay. They exit into an adjacent wing of medbay and Sulu accepts the small relief of knowing they'll at least be out of any line of fire.

He turns his attention back to Chekov. A few breathless moments pass as Sulu waits; silently attempting to anticipate what will happen next. Luckily, he does just that; sensing the moment just before Chekov makes his first move.

He reaches for his phaser and Sulu knows without even looking that it's not set to stun. In a flash, the older helmsman makes a dive from his bed to the floor; narrowly missing the shot that scorches straight through the wall behind him.

Glancing up, Sulu sees Chekov charge him. Sulu reaches up to the table by his bed and grabs a metal plate with spare medical equipment on it. Swiping the tools away, he wings the plate across the floor, catching one of Chekov's legs as his foot hits the ground. The navigator falls forward but swiftly catches himself with a forward tumble. He's up and running again instantly.

Sulu waits for the boy to get close enough and, upon Chekov kicking straight for his face, slides to the right; grabbing the navigator's leg as he does so. Sulu twists himself around, forcing Chekov to turn with him. The boy hits the ground roughly and his gun skids from his hand.

Seeing this, Chekov scrambles to stand again. Sulu, fully aware of the pain racking his every move due to his unhealed injuries, pulls himself up quickly using the edge of his bed. He meets Chekov toe to toe and the navigator punches first; sending a quick cross-hit directly for Sulu's face. The older man ducks it but isn't able to avoid a swift blow to the stomach. He stumbles back; regaining his footing quickly.

There's sudden pounding on the doors to medbay. Sulu can hear familiar voices calling his name. His opponent takes no head of the distraction.

* * *

Kirk finds the hall outside medbay a panicked mess of people trying desperately to unlock the doors.

"Bones!" He calls.

"Jim, over here!"

Kirk weaves his way through the crowded security officers and finds McCoy on the outer edge of the group.

"What's going on?" He asks.

McCoy shakes his head.

"Can't get the doors open. We think he…may have sabotaged them somehow. I got Spock's message and locked down the bay on my way back, but I just got word from one of my nurses that Chekov's in there with Sulu. There's no way to get in through the system. We'll have to open them manually."

Kirk looks over toward the entrance; watching intensely as two men insert a large electric pry bar into the slit between both doors.

They're running out of time.

* * *

Chekov advances and sends a roundhouse kick into Sulu's right leg. Sulu blocks, if only barely. He redirects the boy's leg downward and the unprepared navigator slides forward, traction gone from his stance. Sulu sends an unsatisfying elbow straight into the kid's chest; wincing even as he does so. Chekov plummets, landing harshly on his side. Sulu takes a step back, but it's not enough as Chekov uses his own foot to sweep the older helmsman's legs out from under him.

Sulu finds himself toppling backwards. Luckily, he catches himself on the edge of his bed and pulls himself back up quickly. Fists raised defensively, he watches Chekov manage a swift kick-up, and he's back on his feet as well.

There are successive and repetitive thuds on the entrance to medbay now; resounding echoes reverberating distantly as those on the outside frantically try to break their way in.

Chekov runs forward once more, fist flying towards Sulu's head. The older helmsman blocks the hit and punches forward to deliver a blow of his own. But in familiar anticipation, Chekov slides to the right, latching onto Sulu's arm as he goes. It's a quick move the pilot isn't expecting and he frantically tries to recover; though he can't do it fast enough before Chekov sends an inward kick straight for the older helmsman's knee.

It's the use of this move that has realization dawning on Sulu almost instantaneously. He knows what's coming next, but in his injured state coupled with the serum's combat enhancement still coursing through Chekov's veins, he's just not quick enough.

Chekov turns and bends Sulu's wrist backward without hesitation, this causing the helmsman to turn awkwardly and thus lose his balance. Chekov takes immediate advantage and knees Sulu straight in the abdomen. The pilot groans as all the air leaves his lungs and he drops to the ground. Sulu quickly pushes himself up so that his back is leaning against the side table next to his bed. He gasps fervently, chest aching with a furious pain.

He sees Chekov sprint a few feet away to retrieve his gun. He picks up the weapon and instantly whips his aim straight towards the defenseless pilot, who is still reeling from having the air knocked out of him. Sulu raises a single, tired hand, the other bracing himself up so that he doesn't topple over.

"Chekov," Sulu rasps, "You have to listen to me."

Chekov lifts the phaser to take aim; finger hovering a breath away from the trigger.

"Pavel, _please_ ," Sulu pleads desperately.

And then there's a second, a sudden, single moment, where hesitation flashes across Chekov's eyes. The navigator stumbles slightly on his feet; as if Sulu's last plea physically hits him.

Chekov takes a small breath in, hand tightening around the handle of his phaser. He can feel it; he _knows_ he can feel it. He knows he can feel himself beginning to break through again; beginning to fight back. His eyes dart frantically from his shaking hands to Sulu, who has undoubtedly noticed his sudden change in demeanor.

"I know how you're feeling right now," Sulu explains gently; cautiously. "I know it feels like a wall pushing against you; pushing you away from control. But I need you to push back. I need you to fight it."

Chekov blinks once, his arms shaking.

 _Shoot him_ , the voice of that doctor still echoes in his head. _Shoot him._

Chekov attempts to steady his phaser again.

 _Shoot him._

 _Shoot him._

 _Shoot him._

The command pounds at him mercilessly; encircling his head over and over and over. Repeating just those two words again and again: _Shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him._

Chekov feels his finger touch the trigger. He feels himself losing his grip on what little fight he has left.

This is it, he thinks. This is where he'll kill one of the only people he could never bare lose. This is where that psychopathic doctor that controls him will win. He cannot stop. This is where he will kill his best friend, having to then live with that knowledge and that guilt forever.

This is it.

Chekov glances at Sulu as his finger begins to press in on the trigger of the phaser. He sees the desperation in his friend's eyes; the sadness. He sees the one bit of hope the older helmsman still has left that they might somehow still find a way to pull through this. Find a way to pull through just like they always have.

 _"_ _I suppose we will be roommates then."_

 _"_ _Yeah, I guess we will be."_

Sudden echoes of faded memories crash back over him with renewed life as he registers that hope Sulu still holds on to.

 _"_ _Thank you for helping me, Hikaru."_

 _"_ _Ah, don't worry about it. I'll be your knight in shining armor, Pav."_

Words, laughter; they're all before him in this moment: rushing at him endlessly.

 _"_ _Good news?"_

 _"_ _Alpha Helmsman on the USS Enterprise!"_

Moments in time; long gone it seemed, but suddenly there again.

 _"_ _Thanks for looking out for me in there."_

 _"_ _Always."_

He can feel every small memory, every single moment that's been tucked away for years, resurface; reminding him of a friendship he forged: a friendship he's kept. A friendship that's defined him and shaped him and made him better in more ways than he'll ever be able to count.

There's a distant banging he barely registers as the doors to medbay begin to give way.

More memories spill forward, bringing every moment of joy and love and happiness back to him; enveloping him in an all encompassed feeling of warmth and safety. All of this because of his friend; because of _Sulu_.

Chekov gasps sharply and stumbles forward; his finger falling off the trigger. There's a deep ringing in his ears. His head is reeling, his heart pounding. He can hear the vague, far off sound of his friend talking to him. But he does not focus on that for favor of breathing freely again.

It's momentary, he knows that. He's only broken a small hole through the wall blocking him from control. He has seconds; barely even that.

Chekov looks up to Sulu, eyes locking with the older helmsman's.

"Pav?" Sulu whispers carefully.

Chekov is barely able to give a slight nod, but he manages. Sulu's eyes widen. Chekov can feel the control he has slipping; his feeble window of time ending. He knows he'll have to do something. He can't resist forever.

He glances down at his phaser and then back up at Sulu. Without a second thought, he tosses the weapon towards his friend; Sulu fumbling in surprise to catch it.

"There's no stun," Chekov tells him. He's running out of time. There's a grating squeal as the entrance doors to medbay are slowly peeled open.

"I can't hold out forever," Chekov says. "You need to get out of here."

Sulu holsters the gun at his side and gradually begins to stand.

"Just hold on," he says, one knee digging painfully into the ground as he struggles to stand. "I'm going to get-"

He's interrupted by a sudden crack of thunder, but it's louder. It's closer. It's too close.

Sulu breathes once, all the air vacating his lungs in a single exhale. In that moment, his mind races through a dozen different scenarios; rapidly stumbling over each one as he frantically tries to process what's just happened.

He expects the pain to rip through him and blind his senses from any other sensation but itself. He expects his hands to fly toward the wound and try in vain to stop the inevitable end fate has fashioned for him. He expects some kind of fear to wash over him as he realizes he's going to die. He expects many things to occur after being mortally wounded.

But none of those expectations really happen. Because, as he takes stock of his surroundings, he realizes his hand is still hovering over the gun holstered at his side. Deductively, he very quickly concludes he hasn't been shot. The only weapon that could have done so is still by his side.

So it happens that he then glances up; face riddled with confusion. Why isn't he dying?

The answer to his question lies but ten feet from him. And what he sees-it's something his mind cannot fathom for three entire seconds. And for those three seconds, he can only stare. Eyes wide, stature frozen, he stares.

And all at once everything around him seems sharper; clearer. A trickle of sweat rolls down his temple; his hands are shaking. He can feel that the tear in his calf has reopened. There's fresh blood dripping off his leg. For exactly three seconds, Sulu can only focus on every single thing expect what is right in front of him. And then those three agonizing seconds end, and he finally understands.

He glances first to the man standing behind Chekov. He is someone Sulu only vaguely recognizes as a person he may have passed by once or twice back in the facility. There is a gun held and aimed just below chest level gripped tightly in his hand.

Sulu's gaze next travels to Chekov's face. The young ensign's eyebrows are knit fervently together. His eyes are wet with newly forming tears. Chekov slowly looks downward to where both his hands are pressed against the left side of his chest. Sulu follows his gaze and stops at sight of the blood just barely seeping out between Chekov's fingers.

Sulu's eyes widen and suddenly he can't even find the capacity to breathe. He barely registers the doors finally opening just wide enough for one person at time to fit through.

Chekov drops to his knees and then tumbles sideways onto the floor.

"No," Sulu whispers.

He sees the intruder reposition his gun and aim for him now, but the security detail stops him before he can even reach for the trigger.

Sulu hears the second shot and the sound of the man's body hitting the floor. There's screaming and shouts of orders; people scrambling to secure the room. Sulu leans forward to stand, his injuries burning in agonizing protest. The single hand that grips his bed for support slips and he drops harshly to his stomach. The impact knocks the wind out of him, but he still tries desperately to pick himself up. He can't tear his gaze away from the bleeding, crumpled form ahead of him. Chekov lays far too still, eyes closed and left arm extending outward from where he fell.

Sulu musters his strength, exhaling in pain through gritted teeth. He crawls an inch forward; fingers desperately reaching out towards Chekov's hand. He doesn't know why. He only knows he has to reach him; he _has_ to.

His leg wound screams furiously with every piercing movement. He reaches forward, pushing away the pain that lights up every part of his body. The tips of his fingers barely begin to brush the top of Chekov's hand when Sulu hears footsteps surround him and suddenly he's being lifted to his feet; up and away from the ground. Away from Chekov.

"No!" He screams, furiously trying to battle his way out of a solid grip.

He's dragged backward and a flurry of medical personnel rapidly convene around where Chekov lays. Sulu loses sight of him as he's pulled into an adjacent room and yells out again to be let go. He throws himself forward, but can't quite break the grip around him.

"Sulu, stop!"

Hot, angry tears swell in his eyes as he struggles again to escape. They need to let him go; he _has_ to get back to Chekov.

"You're hurt. We need to get you out of here."

He can't leave. Not now. Not before he knows Chekov is still alive.

"Damn it, Hikaru, please!"

Hearing this, Sulu hesitates. Those words are fraught with desperation; choked with tremendous fear and strained through a fight to hold back unshed tears. Sulu stops struggling. and a few seconds pass before he's finally released. He turns around to see Kirk; face shrouded in panic.

Sulu opens his mouth to speak, to tell his captain he needs to get back in there and be with Chekov, but it seems that all at once everything-the anger, the pain, the fear-comes crashing over him in one almighty wave of exhaustion.

He's tired; he's _so_ tired. He's hurt, and he's bleeding, and he doesn't even know if one of the people closest to him in this world is gone forever, and he's just _so tired_. He can't stop the tears once they start falling. He bows his head and presses a hand against his eyes as his breath hitches on a painful sob.

Sulu feels himself pulled into a tight embrace, but he can't will himself to return it. He just stands there, Kirk's arms wrapped reassuringly around him, and cries. It's simply too much. He wishes he could take it all back; make it so the last three days never happened. Erase the horror and the pain and the anguish. His shoulders shake with each trembling inhale; his chest heaving as he sobs.

"It's going to be okay," Kirk tells him.

It's most likely all the captain can say. Perhaps if he just believes it sincerely enough, it will be true. But even without looking at him, Sulu can hear the uncertainty in Kirk's voice; his words choked as if the air around him is too thick to breathe.

Sulu knows that despite the agonizing despondency that now envelops them both, they have to find some belief that they'll all pull through this; somehow come out okay on the other side. Because hope is the only thing they can hold on to now.

It's all they have left.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everyone! I'll save you the long-winded note about where the last few months have gone. There was a lot that happened. And that's why I haven't updated anything in forever. But there is a bright side to this long wait, I've been working on another story. I decided that I'm going to change things up a bit this time around. To save you guys the uncertainty of updates and to spare myself the guilt of never posting, I decided to prewrite about 85% of the story. There's a few things left to fill in, but this way I will be posting weekly updates rather than sporadic monthly ones whenever I finish a chapter.** ** _The Darkest Hour_** **has one last chapter following this one. I wanted to get this one out now so that you guys know I haven't abandoned it and do in fact have plans to continue writing. I'm super excited to finally wrap this story up and share with you guys this next one I have planned. I really think you're going to like it. The last chapter for this story will be up soon, and following that I'll begin the weekly posting of the new story. Thanks for hanging in there guys, I know the wait has been long. As always, leave a review if you liked the update and have a wonderful evening.**

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Kirk loses his last shred of composure somewhere between helping a team of redshirts literally pry open both doors to medbay with the jaws of fucking life and tripping over the body of some unknown assassin who's currently responsible for the absolute nightmare Kirk's now living. He runs in with McCoy at his side and the first thing his eyes land on is Sulu; the man lying prone across the floor, pain writ across every inch of his face. That automatic instinct to make sure his crew is safe is what ultimately sends Kirk toppling forward after failing to notice the dead body at his feet. Luckily, he catches himself before he hits the ground. Steadying himself, Kirk vaguely remembers hearing one of the security team firing at the unknown assailant and the subsequent sound of said assailant hitting the floor. However, that memory was all but wiped away the second he saw his injured crew. Kirk spares only a sad, distasteful glance at the body, wondering if he, too, was just another victim of Everit's sick and twisted schemes.

"Jim!"

Kirk snaps back into focus at the call of McCoy's frantic voice. A flurry of bodies has convened around the area directly in front of Sulu and the sound of McCoy calling him again rings out from right within the gaggle of medbay personnel. Kirk pushes his way through with force, though the sight that waits for him on the other side sends him reeling into shock.

Within the mass of panicked nurses and aides is a small body lying so very still; a sickly, thick, and rapidly-spreading puddle of blood beneath it. As he stands there staring, it feels as though a million people are shouting all at once. He's lightly shoved in every direction as the personnel around him all strain to hear Doctor McCoy as he rapidly fires off orders; all the while pausing in between shouts to lean down and gently tap the side of Chekov's face in a struggle to get any conscious response from the boy. All attempts thus far have been futile.

Kirk can't tear his eyes away from any of it. He can feel a fiery panic begin to build inside. He's standing there-uselessly-eyes darting from McCoy to Chekov and back again. He can't force himself to move; he just _can't stop staring._ The irrepressible panic on McCoy's face. The frantic movements of the nurses beside him. The way Chekov's hand falls limply in McCoy's grasp as the doctor firmly grips his wrist in search of a pulse. And then the blood. He can't stop staring at it. There's just too much. Kirk can't honestly even process it. _Jesus,_ can _anyone even bleed that much?_

His heart is pumping rapidly.

There's too much blood.

He's quickly losing the focus to even breathe.

There's too much blood.

His hands are shaking wildly.

There's too much blood.

His eyes are frantically darting around in search of any way he can help because _holy shit_ there's just _too much_ blood.

"Bones, what can I do?" He asks, looking up at his friend.

"Bones," he yells again, this time louder and more pressed as panic continues to build inside him. McCoy looks up.

"Tell me what to do," he very nearly pleads. This helplessness is a foreign feeling; one he hasn't experienced often. He's always the first responder-constantly ready for action and prepared to give out the proper commands in order to establish a stable atmosphere amidst a storm of panic. But with his youngest crewmember now dying at his feet, Kirk can't seem to bring about the functionality he's come to rely heavily on in his time as a captain.

"Get Sulu out of here," McCoy orders. "Now!"

Kirks nods once. Yes. Yes, he can do that. This is the way he can help. He turns and pushes his way back through the crowd, then letting the ring of personnel close behind him as he moves toward Sulu. The pilot is still on the ground, hand outstretched and shaking.

Kirk hooks both arms under Sulu's own and carefully hauls the man to his feet. The feat is by no means simple as Sulu fights desperately to break free of Kirk's grip around him.

"Let me go!" He screams. "Let me go, now!"

Sulu nearly breaks free but Kirk locks his hands together tightly and physically drags his frantic pilot out of the room and into an adjacent medbay wing. Sulu fights him despite Kirk pleading with him to stop struggling; that he's hurt and they can't help him if he doesn't stay still. All his pleas land on deaf ears as Sulu focuses only on escaping. Kirk grapples with him again and, upon receiving a hard elbow to the chin, can't hold back any longer.

"Damn it, Hikaru, please!" He screams. The sound of his own desperation fills his ears and Sulu stops struggling. Kirk waits a few moments before releasing him; makes sure he knows Sulu won't try and run. But it is then, upon seeing Sulu standing there-expression broken and lifeless-that a part of Kirk wishes he _would_ run.

Sulu opens his mouth to say something, but the air is empty. He presses a hand against his eyes and begins shaking as tears drip down his cheeks to the floor. Unsure of anything else but knowing his friend needs him, Kirk wraps his arms around Sulu tightly.

"It's going to be okay," he says. And it's as though someone else has spoken for him. Those are not his words because, honestly, he's not sure how things are going to end. Perhaps the part of him still needing to reassure his crew-to have them believe everything is going to turn out okay-is having him speak on its own accord.

A few minutes pass and Kirk gently steers Sulu toward the nearest bed.

"Here, sit," he says, helping the injured helmsman up onto it.

Sulu winces as his leg swings with unstable motion, fresh blood still dripping from the reopened wound. Kirk, gently as he can manage, raises Sulu's leg so that it rests upon the table. He turns toward the nearest cabinet and rummages through a few drawers in search of some gauze and bandages. He's no expert in emergency triage, but he does know a thing or two about treating an injury long enough for McCoy to come and properly take care of it.

Kirk makes his way back to a despondent Sulu and carefully begins wrapping the gash on his leg. The only indication of consciousness the silent helmsman communicates is the occasional wince when Kirk wraps the bandages a bit too tightly. Kirk wants to say something, he does. But he's not sure any words of comfort will be anything but in vain when he himself isn't even sure what the other side of tonight will bring.

The thought brings his mind to Chekov. The sight of that blood covered floor stains his memory and he physically squeezes his eyes shut to banish the scene from his mind. He knows what he saw is real, but part of him refuses to believe it. The heart-constricting panic gnawing at his insides is doing its very best to convince him what he saw isn't as bad as he remembers. Surely the rush of it all-the frantic emotion coursing through everyone-is exaggerating his memory. Perhaps he'll be chiding himself for overreacting in a few hours' time.

The sight of Sulu's bloodshot eyes rips away any fantasy Kirk's mind is desperately contriving.

Chekov is hurt. McCoy is going to save him. Chekov is going to live.

These are the three things Kirk mentally repeats to himself as he finishes wrapping Sulu's leg.

How badly? Will he be able to? How do you really know?

These are the three questions Kirk ignores as he stands to leave and find someone to update him on the current situation.

"I'll be back," he tells Sulu. "I'll send someone to work on your leg."

Sulu gives no response, only continues to stare at the ceiling. Kirk takes a breath in before heading for the main wing of medbay. A few personnel still run about, fetching supplies and tending to other patients while others race across the room and toward the surgery wing. Vaguely, Kirk can hear the far-off sound of McCoy's voice as he yells out orders to anyone within earshot.

Almost unconsciously, Kirk finds himself outside the observation window to the operating room. He stares in, feeling as though he's watching-but not processing-what's happening. He can't seem to wrap his mind around his current reality. He sees McCoy leaning over a table, surgical garb and all, working with the steady hands that have seen him through countless expeditions gone wrong. Kirk watches the doctor's hands intently; hoping desperately they'll be able to pull through once again.

The glass separating him from the inside is thick, but that doesn't stop the frantic whine of a heart monitor from reaching his ears and all the unbridled panic of the surgical staff following with it. He watches McCoy, still moving calmly as ever, quickly shout a few orders. A nurse, defibrillator cables in hand, is by his side in seconds. McCoy grasps them and rightly places them on Chekov's chest before yelling out something Kirk cannot distinguish over the deafening roar of blood in his own ears.

Chekov's entire body arches upward and then falls still again. McCoy readjust the cables, yells once more, and again Chekov's small frame convulses violently. Kirk can feel fingernails digging into his palms painfully as he tightly squeezes his hands into fists. His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and throat, all he can do is watch as McCoy once again sends a pulse of electricity racing through their youngest crewmate. A few breathless seconds of the entire room staring intently at the heart monitor passes before a small peak on the screen appears.

Kirk watches the surgical team-allowing roughly two seconds of relief-immediately continue their work as though they haven't just brought someone back from the very brink of the abyss. He finds he himself can barely stand after those agonizing previous seconds, so he has no idea how McCoy and the others are doing it; let alone trying once more to work onward. He imagines it takes a certain kind of resolve to be so focused and dedicated to saving life.

As the medical team continues to work, Kirk turns away. He cannot force himself to watch this any longer. It's only going to worsen the insurmountable panic continuing to well up within. He already can't stop himself from thinking of what he could lose today; what the whole ship could lose. He imagines having to inform Chekov's remaining family that he's gone. He imagines making that call to Earth and has to physically stop himself from dry heaving into the nearest waste bin. He can't lose the kid-damn his age, he'll always be the kid to him. Kirk knows he will never be able to forgive himself if that happens.

In desperate need of something to occupy his frantic mind, Kirk sets off to find someone who can help Sulu. Chekov is in the best hands he can be, and now Kirk needs to do his duty and attend to the people _he_ can help. To quell his unceasing panic, he continues to repeat over and over again that things are going to be okay; even if he can't say for certain that they will be.

Chekov's going to live, he tells himself.

He's going to live. He's going to live. He's going to live.


End file.
